


Eau de Merlin

by SPowell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Armpit Kink, Arthur bottom, First Time, M/M, Merlin bottom, Merlin's pov, first time bottom, fish in danger, masseur!Merlin, perfumer!Arthur, scent addiction, threat of major illness, threatened rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 78,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moved from kink_me Merlin. For the prompt where Arthur is a famous perfumer and is enamored with Merlin's scent. (Or that's the direction I took it, anyway.)<br/>Please don't let the tag "armpit kink" turn you away before you give this a try.</p><p>Disclaimer: I make no profit from this endeavor. The characters belong to BBC and Shine, along with legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tantalizing Scent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [millionstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millionstar/gifts).



> This has totally gotten away from me. Our boys are going at it like bunnies. I'm moving this to give me more ease of posting and my readers more ease of reading.  
> I am gifting this work to millionstar, even though she wasn't the OP. (The OP may have run off screaming by now.)

 

“Don’t look now, Merlin, but the bloke behind you is sniffing you,” Will whispers in Merlin’s ear as he gets a bottle of water from the machine at the gym.

“What?” Merlin asks on a huff of laughter. He, Will, and Gwaine have just finished a sweaty game of basketball, but Merlin knows he didn’t forget to wear deodorant. He moves aside so that Will can take a turn at the machine and comes face to face with a very handsome man dressed in a white workout shirt and navy shorts. He’s blond and fit with blue eyes and…yes, he does seem to be _sniffing_ at Merlin.

“Um, what are you doing?” Merlin asks, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes and taking a step back.

“Hm? Oh, sorry. Actually, I was just smelling you,” the man replies. His voice is very posh, and he seems quite sure of himself, the way he stands with his hands on his hips and his lips pressed together, surveying Merlin.

“That’s what I thought,” Merlin gives him a funny look. “Could you stop, please?” He moves away.

Will is guzzling his water. He twists the cap back on. “Bloody pervert,” he says, then, “Come on, Merlin.” They head to the locker room where Gwaine’s just stepping out of the shower.

“I have to hurry. Meeting Elena at The Dragon’s Lair for drinks,” Gwaine says, toweling off his longish brown hair.

Will turns on one of the showers and strips. “Better wash up, Merls, or you’ll be attracting more weirdos who like stinky pits,” he says before closing the curtain.

“What’s he on about?” Gwaine asks, brow lifting.

“Some guy was sniffing me by the vending machine,” Merlin replies. He lifts his arm and smells. “Not sure what that was about. Do I smell or something?” He offers his armpit to Gwaine, who backs off.

“Sorry, mate,” Gwaine makes a face, “but you’ll just have to wonder.”

Merlin shrugs, walks to his locker, and gets out his bag, taking the unscented soap from the plastic container. After a bad allergic reaction when he was a young boy, he’s never used soaps, shampoos, deodorants, or detergents that aren’t natural and free of perfumes. By the same token, he never wears colognes of any kind.

He showers and dresses quickly, and the three men exit the gym together, laughing and talking.

“Uh, oh, there’s the weird knob again,” Will mutters as the automatic doors close behind them. The blond man they saw before is leaning against the building, now dressed in nice slacks and a button-down shirt.

Gwaine whistles under his breath. “He’s a looker! Might be worth putting up with him.”

Will elbows him in the ribs.

When they draw closer to the man and he sees Merlin, he stands up straight and offers his hand to shake.

“My name’s Arthur Pendragon, and I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot before.”

“You didn’t get off on any foot, mate,” Will tells him belligerently. “He just wanted you to stop sniffing at him like a dog. Now beat it.”

“Will,” Merlin admonishes, and takes Arthur’s hand.

“I didn’t mean for you to take my interest in you as an insult,” Arthur continues, “I very much like the way you smell.”

Merlin blushes red.

“Oh, my God,” Will says, and Gwaine steps forward.

“Look, mate. You’re hot as hell and all that, but you’re making our friend here uncomfortable—he’s not into kinky shit like that. So maybe you’d just better go.” When Arthur doesn’t immediately move and Gwaine takes a step closer to him, a man built like a tank steps out of seemingly nowhere, pushing himself between Arthur and Gwaine.

“It’s all right, Percy,” Arthur tells him, putting a hand out. “There’s just a misunderstanding all around,”

Gwaine stares up at Percy, eyes wide, but unwilling to back down.

“Please,” Arthur says to Merlin, his eyes very blue. “Can we start over? Let me buy you a drink.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to think. On the one hand, it’s seriously odd to have a person sniff at you, particularly after you’ve been sweating profusely. On the other, Arthur Pendragon is a very good looking man—definitely the finest one Merlin’s ever seen in person—and he’s asking Merlin out for a drink. He glances at Gwaine.

“How about at The Dragon’s Lair? That’s where my friends are going.”

Arthur’s smile is blinding. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll meet you there.”

~ ~~~~~

“I don’t even know your name,” Arthur says as he seats himself across from Merlin at the corner table in the small, crowded pub. Merlin has to scoot his chair very close in order to hear the words over the din of the Saturday evening crowd.

“Merlin Emrys,” he says, leaning toward Arthur’s ear. And did Arthur just take another whiff of him?

“So is that Percy guy your body guard or something?” Merlin nods to where Percy has taken a seat with a tall, ginger-haired man.

“Yes, unfortunately my father seems to think I need one occasionally,” Arthur replies. He’s bought them both a beer, and he takes a long sip of his. “Percy has other functions, though. He doesn’t always act as my body guard.”

“You needed one today. Gwaine would’ve laid you out if you’d given him any trouble,” Merlin replies with a cheeky grin before taking a pull from his bottle.

Arthur leans back, propping his arm on the back of the chair. “I think I could’ve taken him,” he says with confidence, and Merlin laughs, his eyes raking over Arthur with speculation. “Maybe.” And _God_ , is he flirting with the guy now?

But Arthur’s answering smile is worth it, and Merlin gives him a grin.

“Soo…with the sniffing thing. Mind telling me what that was about? Because I find myself really hoping you aren’t a nutter.”

Arthur straightens up in his seat. “Yes, well. I suppose that did look a bit odd.”

“A bit,” Merlin nods.

“I don’t normally go around sniffing blokes. I want you to know that,” Arthur tells him.

“Good to know. I’m just special, then?”

“Very,” Arthur replies. When Merlin frowns, he rushes on to say, “You see, Merlin, my family works in scent. I’ve grown up in it. Surely you’ve heard of Pendragon Perfumes?”

Merlin’s heart falls. So this isn’t a pick up. He should have known. “I wasn’t wearing any scent,” he says a bit harshly, and his body language must give him away, for Arthur’s already got his hand on Merlin’s arm reassuringly.

“Merlin, you caught my eye well before you caught my…well, nostrils.” Arthur colours, and Merlin finds the blush immensely appealing on the confident man. He relaxes a little, very aware of the heat of Arthur’s hand on his arm.

“I was trying to think of something to say to you when I smelled you. You smell…well, just really _good_. Believe me; I have a very sensitive nose. It comes from years of training.”

Merlin makes a face. Is this guy for real? “Arthur, I had just spent an hour and a half on the basketball court. There is no way in hell that I smelled good. Do you have some kind of smell kink or something?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No. I don’t. I know I must sound like I do, but I don’t. At least, I never have before. At the gym, you’d been sweating, and I could just smell you so strongly. Now, you’re clean and showered…I don’t smell any soaps or colognes on you…” he raises his brow in question, and Merlin shakes his head, “but you still smell fantastic to me. I swear, I can smell you from here.”

Granted, Arthur is only inches away, but _what the fuck_? Merlin looks around, spots Gwaine with Elaina, and feels a bit better. When he looks back at Arthur, the man appears a little crestfallen.

“You think I’m daft. I don’t blame you.” He fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out a card. It’s embossed and on expensive paper and has the fancy Pendragon Perfume emblem on it.

“Believe me, when you grow up being regularly blindfolded and forced to smell things over and over again, you develop a very sharp nose,” Arthur tells him. “I’m sorry I’ve come off as such a creep. If I hadn’t sniffed you like a stray mutt, do you think you would’ve given me the time of day?”

Merlin looks into the deep blue of Arthur’s eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in spite of himself. “Surely not a mutt,” he can’t resist teasing. “A pure bred Pekingese, maybe, but not a mutt.”

Arthur looks a bit affronted, but wisely keeps silent.

“I think I would’ve given it to you. The time, that is,” Merlin finally answers him with a smirk.

Arthur blushes, ducks his head, and Merlin thinks this is the moment he’s lost, because fuck, the man is gorgeous, sweet, and a bit of a child inside. And he thinks Merlin _smells good_ , of all things!

“Are you saying you want to take me out, Mr. Pendragon?” Merlin leans forward boldly. “Smell me up?” He lifts his brows.

Arthur looks up at him, his breath catching in his throat, and Merlin gets the feeling this is something that never happens to Arthur Pendragon—being caught off balance like this. It fills Merlin with a sense of power he isn’t used to, and he likes it. Very much.

“May I take you to dinner?” Arthur asks quietly, as though Merlin’s answer is very, very important.

Merlin turns the card over in his hand. “Got a pen?”

When Arthur hands him one, gold and very posh, Merlin writes his cell number and the address of the coffee shop near his flat in block letters. “Meet me there at seven?” He hands Arthur the card and gets up. Arthur stands, too. Merlin hefts his gym bag off the floor and heads for the door. “See you then,” he says over his shoulder, and wonders if he imagines the slight flare of Arthur’s nostrils in his wake.

 

 

 

 


	2. First Date

 

“Merlin, are you crazy?” Will shouts over the phone so that Merlin has to hold his mobile two inches away from his ear. “You can’t go out with that nutter! Tell me where you are so I can come with.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Will, you are not coming on my date with me,” Merlin answers seriously. He looks out the window of the coffee shop, watching for Arthur, butterflies knocking about the walls of his stomach.

“You don’t know what he might do, Merlin. He might take you somewhere and smell you all over—fucking rape you with his nose or something equally disgusting.”

“Will, I’m hanging up now.” Merlin pushes the end button before Will can start up another tirade and smiles when he sees Arthur get out of a silver Porsche at the kerb. “Posh wanker,” he mutters before pushing out of the door. Arthur’s eyes light up when he spots Merlin exiting the cafe.

“You came,” Arthur greets him, obviously pleased.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Merlin asks.

“Well, after the way we met, I can’t say I’d blame you if you stood me up,” Arthur replies with a smile. “I also considered that your friends might intervene.”

“Will would have liked to,” Merlin admitted. “Where shall we go to eat? I’m starved!”

“I’m taking you anywhere you’d like to make up for being so dodgy earlier,” Arthur tells him, leading him back to his car and opening the door for him.

“Would you think me boring if I say I’d just like a good steak and salad?” Merlin asks, buckling himself in as Arthur slips in beside him and starts the engine, which purrs like a sleek jungle cat.

“Sounds perfect,” Arthur agrees. “I know just the place.”

They go to Gaucho Piccadilly, where Arthur promptly arranges a table with a modicum of privacy and dismisses the attentions of the eager waiter, quickly ordering their meals.

“I’ve always wanted to come here,” Merlin comments, looking around. “It’s different.”

“I hope you weren’t looking forward to the whole spiel,” Arthur says. “They’ll tell you all about the meats if you let them, and pretty much hover about the table throughout the meal. I confess I wanted you to myself.”

“That suits me fine,” Merlin replies, colouring a little. “I’ve just heard that the food here is wonderful.”

“It is,” Arthur replies.” The best steak around, in my opinion.” He rearranges himself more comfortably in his seat. “So tell me. What do you do for a living, Merlin?”

“I’m a massage therapist. I work in sync with Gwaine, my mate you met at the gym. He’s a chiropractor, and he refers most of his patients to me.”

“Oi. I’ve never met a massage therapist before,” Arthur says. “Not even professionally, although my sister gave me a free visit to one for Christmas one year.”

The waiter brings some cheese bread to the table and fills their water glasses.

“And you didn’t go?” Merlin asks, taking a sip from his glass.

“No,” Arthur shakes his head. “I’m a little too stiff and formal for that kind of thing.”

“All the more reason to have a massage,” Merlin tells him enthusiastically. “You’ll feel wonderful afterward.”

“I’m the kind of person who can barely get my hair cut without feeling violated,” Arthur admits, looking sheepish.

Merlin just hums, thinking he’ll get Arthur to have a massage if he has any say about it. It’s his opinion that everyone should have one.

“Try the bread,” Arthur says, and Merlin does. It’s fabulous. They eat most of it, talking some more. Arthur tells Merlin that he really doesn’t deal much in the perfume side of his family business, but more with the business side, although his father makes sure Arthur visits the labs regularly. Merlin tells Arthur that his Aunt Alice used to wear the fragrance named for Arthur’s mother, _Igraine._

“I always think of her when I smell it,” Merlin muses. “She’s been dead now for a few years. She was my mother’s sister and lived in Wales, but she used to visit us every Christmas and Easter.”

Arthur has a faraway look on his face, and Merlin touches his hand. “Hey, are you all right?”

“What? Yes, fine.” Arthur smiles. “I was just thinking of Mum tucking me in at night and the smell of her perfume wafting in the air as she and Father left the room to go out to some lavish party or the other. She died when I was three, and I barely remember her at all, but I always remember her scent.” His eyes are distant for a moment, and then he fixes them on Merlin. “Yet it wasn’t really her scent at all, was it? Only a perfume. I sometimes find myself wondering what she really smelled like. Just her.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say to this, so he remains quiet, nodding his understanding.

The food arrives, and they talk of the weather and sports while they eat. Merlin finds himself sneaking glances at Arthur, watching the way his jaw moves as he chews and how he absently fingers the cloth on the table while listening to Merlin speak. It’s the easiest meal Merlin’s ever had with someone on a first date, and it’s amazing, really, when he stops to think about it; the two of them don’t have a lot in common at all. They are definitely from two very different socio-economic classes, and they move in completely different circles. Arthur doesn’t even frequent the gym where they met—he’d been there to meet a client. Yet once Merlin got over his initial trepidation, he feels more comfortable with Arthur than he does most of the people he knows.

Merlin has many people whom he might call friends, but they’re really only acquaintances. Due to his open smile and easy-going manner, people seem to naturally gravitate toward him. But Merlin has only let a number of those people into his inner circle—those being Gwaine, Will, Gwen, and Lance. He’s dated, but never remained on good terms with the men after they’d broken up. Merlin loves hard and fiercely, giving all of himself and expecting no less in return but never getting it, and when it is over, it’s over because there simply is no in-between for him.

Arthur’s mouth quirks in amusement as Merlin ignores yet another text notification.

“Your friends are very protective of you,” he notes.

“Some more than others,” Merlin grumbles.

“Is Will an ex-boyfriend?”

Merlin almost chokes on his water. “God, no! We would kill one another. Will’s straight, anyway. He’s just a very good friend, and for some reason he feels the need to watch out for me. I suppose I do the same for him, just less obnoxiously. I hope so, anyway.” Merlin shrugs. “Don’t you have a friend like that?” He looks at Arthur, who has foregone dessert and sits, chin propped on hands, watching Merlin enjoy his raspberry cheesecake. “The bodyguard doesn’t count.”

Arthur laughs softly. “Yeah, Leon. He’s the bloke that was in the pub with Percy. He’s my best friend, PA, and sometimes driver, although he wears a few other hats in the company. He’s actually also my cousin. Complicated family, we are.”

“Sounds it,” Merlin smiles. He lifts his fork, bringing it across the table to Arthur’s lips. “Try this; it’s to die for.”

Arthur obediently parts his lips, closing his mouth around the soft cake as Merlin slides the fork out, damp from Arthur’s saliva. Merlin immediately brings it to his own lips and licks it off, feeling himself grow stiff in his trousers. Arthur’s eyes heat up as his tongue snakes out to lick cake off his lips, their eyes never breaking contact.

“Delicious,” Arthur says huskily.

“Yeah….yeah.” Merlin feels suddenly stupid with lust. He wants to crawl under the table, unzip Arthur’s pants, and take him in his mouth. He thinks for a minute he might have said it out loud, because Arthur’s breathing has accelerated, and he looks flushed, but Merlin’s pretty sure he’s still sitting there, staring open-mouthed at Arthur. Probably drooling, even.

Arthur raises his hand for the check, and Merlin would excuse himself for the restroom, except for the huge hard-on in his pants. He silently wills it down, thinking of the most disgusting things he possibly can, most of which include Will and the two weeks he lived with Merlin while having his flat painted.

By the time they’re ready to go, Merlin can stand without embarrassing himself. Still, the hand that Arthur places at the small of Merlin’s back feels like a brand, and he’s certain that Arthur’s smelling him as they walk through the exit together, and now the knowledge only makes him hard, _so fucking hard_.

Merlin knows he’ll feel like a complete slag if he asks Arthur to his place on the first date, but he really, really wants to. He glances at him, unsure. Arthur is toying with his car keys, looking like he isn’t quite sure what to say, either.

“I’d like to invite you to mine for a drink, but I don’t want to sound—well, you know,” Merlin finally admits.

Arthur lets out the breath he’d been holding. “That’d be great. It’s early yet. I’d say we could go to mine, but Leon’s there with a date.”

Merlin grins, and they get into the Porsche. “I live just around the corner from where you picked me up.”

Merlin’s nerves tingle on the short drive, and he tries not to talk too fast or too much, as he usually does when nervous.  Arthur parks, and Merlin can’t help but ogle his arse as they enter Merlin’s building. Arthur’s like a magnet that draws Merlin closer and closer, and by the time they step into the lift, they’re holding hands. Merlin feels like a school boy with a crush, he’s so giddy. On the way up to Merlin’s floor, Arthur turns and there’s a burning intensity mixed with boyish uncertainty in his deep blue eyes that sets Merlin ablaze.

“Merlin…please, let me just…”

Merlin nods once, and Arthur is on him in less than a breath, his palm on the panel, stopping the lift as he presses Merlin against the wall of the elevator, their bodies molding together. Merlin is slightly taller, and Arthur dives for Merlin’s neck, pulling in a deep lungful through his nostrils. “God, Merlin, you smell so good!” he moans against Merlin’s pulse point, and Merlin shivers in reaction.

Arthur’s hands come up to clutch at Merlin’s ribs with his fingers, pressing lightly into the bones. He continues breathing in, nose moving through Merlin’s hair just behind his ear. “You don’t use any scent at all, do you?” he asks, his voice muffled by Merlin’s skin.

“No,” Merlin replies hoarsely. “I’m allergic.”

Arthur drags his lips across Merlin’s throat. “You’re intoxicating, that’s what you are,” Arthur tells him fervently. “I could get drunk on you.”

Merlin’s mobile buzzes in his pocket. Arthur’s thumbs rub against Merlin’s rib cage, making it difficult for Merlin to think. “I should—get that,” he manages to say.

“Mmm…” Arthur answers, running his nose along the column of Merlin’s throat and up behind his neck. Merlin fumbles his phone out of his pocket and presses the button.

“H’lo?”

“Merlin? Where the bugger are you? I saw you pull up at the kerb with that wanker!” Will’s voice is shrill in Merlin’s ear.

“God, Will, shut up, will you? I’m in the lift! What are you, my mum?” Arthur’s face moves to the other side of Merlin’s neck, and Merlin adjusts the mobile accordingly, trembling as Arthur’s nose finds his sensitive ear.

“I’m waiting for you in your flat. What’s taking you so long? God—he’s smell-raping you, isn’t he!”

“Will, go away!” Merlin gasps as Arthur’s tongue finds its way inside his ear.

“Are you shagging in the lift, Merlin? You hardly know this guy! Not to mention the fact that he’s a fucking pervert!” The sheer volume of this outcry brings Arthur up for air, eyebrow raised.

“Fuck, Will, you absolute wanker! I’ll see you in a minute.” Merlin ends the call and hits the lift button. “Sorry about that,” he tells Arthur. “He must really be worried. He isn’t usually this tenacious.”

Arthur steps back with a wry smile. When the lift doors open, Will is standing on the landing, arms folded.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Merlin tells him, stepping off and giving his friend a shove. “You are the one in the wrong here; you don’t get to take that attitude. Arthur and I are still on our date, so you just go on home.”

“But he’s a—“ Will begins, pointing his thumb at Arthur.

“He’s a very respectable man, and he’s my date, Will. Now beat it!” Merlin grabs him by the back of the shirt, shoving him toward the lift.

With a growl and a scathing look at Arthur, Will obeys, staring Arthur down until the lift doors close.

“I can still feel his eyes on me,” Arthur says after the numbers start moving downward. Merlin laughs and heads toward the open door of his flat.

“I should never have given him a key. He’s probably made a mess of the place.”

The flat doesn’t look too bad, though. Merlin throws his keys into the bowl on the table by the door and leads Arthur into the living room.

“Drink?” he asks.

“Coffee or tea would be great,” Arthur replies, looking around. “This is nice.  You live here alone?”

“Gwaine’s my flat mate, but he spends a lot of time at his girlfriend’s. He downplays it, but he’s really head-over-heels for her. I expect they’ll get married soon, and I’ll be looking for a new flat mate.” Merlin gets the coffee out of the cabinet.

“I don’t suppose it will be Will?” Arthur asks, smiling.

“Er, no,” Merlin shakes his head, measuring the grounds. He fills the coffee maker with water and switches it on.

“I may owe you an apology for attacking you in the lift,” Arthur says, scratching the back of his neck and looking sheepish.

“Don’t you dare!” Merlin admonishes. “I’ve always wanted to be ravished in a lift.”

Arthur relaxes a little. “I honestly hope you believe me when I say that I’m not this way with everyone. I’m not normally sniffing all over my dates like this. I don’t know what’s come over me.” He shakes his head. “I suspect you’re a little bit of a pixie or something.”

Merlin barks out a shocked laugh. “A pixie?”

“A sprite, then? A fairy?” Arthur teases.

Merlin laughs harder. “It takes one to know one!”

Arthur laces his fingers with Merlin’s. “A bit magical, then. You’ve bewitched me.”

“Body and soul? Am I to be Elizabeth to your Mr. Darcy, then?”

Arthur’s smile is wide. He kisses Merlin’s hand, lingering to run his nose over it, closing his eyes.

“No one’s ever told me that I smell good,” Merlin says quietly, watching Arthur with awe. “Particularly since I never use scented soap or wear cologne.”

“I can’t explain it,” Arthur whispers, turning Merlin’s hand over in his own and sniffing the soft inside of Merlin’s wrist. “I just want to strip you bare and sniff you all over!” He winces, looking up at Merlin. “This is where you kick me out of your flat and call the cops, isn’t it?”

Merlin laughs quietly. “It is a bit weird, but also kind of…hot.”

“Really?” Arthur grins.

Merlin nods. “Really.”

“Then you’ll go out with me again?”

“Okay.”

The coffee pot makes a noise signaling that it’s finished its brewing cycle, and Merlin pulls away to pour them each a cup. They go into the small living area and sit on the sofa, chatting for a while and putting some needed distance between them before things go too far too fast. By the time Arthur leaves, it’s nearly one A.M.

“Friday night, then?” Arthur says from the doorway.

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it,” Merlin tells him. Arthur leans in and barely brushes Merlin’s lips with his, just enough to make Merlin want so much more, and then he’s gone.


	3. A Trip

Their next two dates are enjoyable—a mid-week lunch between Merlin’s appointments and Frisbee in the park on Saturday that ends in a sweaty snog session nestled beneath a grove of shade trees. Merlin thinks he’s falling a bit in love, but reigns himself in because, really, he hardly knows this man, and it could just be the blatant lust surging through him every time those velvet lips touch his.

Arthur invites Merlin to have dinner with Arthur’s sister and father, and they’re even more imposing than Arthur had been at first glance. But under her icy exterior, Morgana has a quick wit and Merlin suspects a heart close to as kind as her brother’s.

Merlin has recently found just how kind that is, thanks to Gwaine’s insistence on looking into Arthur. Arthur devotes his time and money to countless charities, recently donating the entire profits of a new perfume to build a children’s cancer unit at a local hospital. He also devotes two Saturday afternoons a month at the local boys’ club.

There is an awkward moment when Arthur coerces Morgana to take several long whiffs of Merlin’s neck, insisting that she agree that he’s the best smelling human she’s ever come across. She finally does just to appease him, and she and Merlin share an exasperated look behind Arthur’s back that makes Merlin feel closer to her already.

Uther Pendragon is another matter, but at the point when Merlin has given up on getting more than one syllable replies from the stiff man, Uther’s companion, a teasing, laughing gentleman called Nevin, arrives, and Uther immediately morphs into someone else entirely. It is clear that he is completely smitten. Arthur gives Merlin a wink, and the rest of the evening becomes easy.

“Nevin seems the complete antithesis of your father,” Merlin comments that evening as they sit in Arthur’s posh living room on his immaculate sofa looking out at his spectacular view of London. (Merlin has found that everything about Arthur’s life requires adjectives.) “So small, quick in movement, funny and smiling all the time…”

“I know,” Arthur laughs. “I couldn’t believe it when they started dating. It was unbelievable, the change in Father. He stopped wearing ties!” Arthur shakes his head.

Merlin’s eyes widen. “No!” he mocks. “Not ties!”

“Hey,” Arthur says, “the man’s worn a tie every day of his life since he was twelve. It was momentous. It’s amazing what the right person can do for you.” Arthur’s eyes grow serious, and Merlin tries not to squirm under their cerulean gaze. “Merlin, I haven’t felt like this about someone in a long time,” Arthur says seriously. “I hope that doesn’t scare you.”

Merlin presses his lips together, his heart beating a little too fast. The thing is, it does scare him a bit.

“I like you a lot, Arthur,” Merlin replies honestly. “I want to continue seeing you.”

Arthur looks away. “I’m too intense, aren’t I? I thought so.”

Merlin reaches over and touches Arthur’s arm. “You’re fine, Arthur. Let’s just continue as we have been, yeah?” He smiles.

“You have the most beautiful smile,” Arthur tells him, his face so sincere that Merlin’s heart flips in his chest.

~~~~

Merlin can tell that Arthur takes a figurative step back after that, making sure that he doesn’t push Merlin too hard too fast. During the next couple of weeks, Merlin enjoys getting to know little things about Arthur; such as the fact that he hates squash, loves his toast sprinkled with cinnamon, and that he isn’t kidding when he says that getting a haircut makes him uncomfortable. Merlin accompanies Arthur when he goes for a trim, and the tense line of Arthur’s jaw and the way his mouth pulls down at the edges as the barber works speaks volumes.  
  
“I just don’t like to be touched by strangers,” Arthur tries to explain later over dinner.   
  
“And that’s why you won’t get a massage,” Merlin remembers. “But you’d let me give you one, wouldn’t you? I’m not a stranger.”  
  
“I suppose,” Arthur replies, taking a bite of his potato.  
  
“Then come by my office one day at closing time. I promise you’ll love it.”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” Arthur hedges.  
  
“Arthur,” Merlin shakes his head, giving him a teasing smile. “Live a little.”  
  
Arthur seems unable to hold back an answering grin. “Okay, I’ll do it soon. I promise.”  
  
When Merlin next gets together with Gwaine and Will, he has to endure a lot of teasing over dating the man he met because he’d been sniffing Merlin at the gym.  
  
“Did he smell you all over when you were fucking?” Will asks, well into his second beer.  
  
“And this is your business, how?” Merlin asks unhelpfully.

“Oh, my God, he did!” Will crows, and Merlin just shakes his head.  
  
“Will’s told me all about how you shagged in the lift,” Gwaine tries. “For shame, Merlin!”  
  
“We did not. We couldn’t even have a proper snog, because Will kept calling and whining why wasn’t I home yet, like somebody’s doddering nana.” Merlin takes a long drink of his beer, the icy-cold brew tasting wonderful after a long day at work.

“That bloke you sent over to the shop wore me out, by the way,” he tells Gwaine. “My hands are sore from kneading him for an hour like a blob of week old dough.”  
  
“He says you’re the best,” Gwaine replies with a grin. “I think he has a crush on you, mate. He may ask you out one of these days.”  
  
“Not my type,” Merlin makes a face. “Too burly and much too hairy.” He shudders. “I like my men smoother.” He looks at Will. “Blonder. And not that it’s any of your business, but Arthur and I haven’t slept together yet.”  
  
Will makes an exaggeratedly impressed face. “Really? I would’ve imagined that to be the first thing on his agenda.”  
  
“That’s because you’re a bloody wanker,” Merlin tells him. “Arthur really likes me. He sees past my obvious sex appeal to the hidden beauty within.”  
  
Gwaine laughs into his beer. “Very emo of you, Merls, I must say. Well, if you and Arty are becoming a thing, then I suppose we need to get better acquainted with him. Might as well invite him out with the gang.”  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” Merlin says. “He’s already introduced me to his family, and I guess you lot are as close as I have to one, what with Mum so far away. Gwen and Lance can meet us somewhere. Tomorrow night, then?”

  
“Sounds good to me. What about you, Will?”  
  
Will wipes beer foam off his mouth. “I don’t know…he’s not gonna bury his nose in your crotch or anything like that, is he?”  
  
“Not if I give him a good whiff of my armpit beforehand,” Merlin answers with a cheeky grin, then shoves Will in the shoulder when his friend looks alarmed.  
  
“All right, I’ll be there,” Will agrees, recovering quickly. “We’ll see if he passes inspection. I didn’t get a chance to interview him before.”  
  
Merlin turns to Gwaine, and they share an eye roll before dissolving into laughter.

 

~~~~

 

  
“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks, trying to juggle his mobile while flipping an egg in the skillet. Early morning sun streams through the small window over his sink, blasting him in the eyes. “Too short notice? Or are you afraid to meet them all at once?”

Arthur’s silence after Merlin telling him about his plans for him to meet his friends is beginning to rattle Merlin. He’s beginning to realize just how much he really likes Arthur, and that in itself is frightening—Merlin hasn’t had a serious relationship since Gilly, and that one had been tough to get over. Arthur is in some ways so reticent, it makes Merlin reluctant to begin something with him. However, when he voiced this to Gwen in a late telephone conversation the night before, she pointed out that Arthur may be reticent in some things, but he isn’t in his feelings toward Merlin or where he wants to take their relationship. It’s Merlin who’s holding back there. Which makes it a vicious circle, really, and Merlin’s head hurts just thinking about it.

“Maybe a bit, but that’s not it,” Arthur finally says. “Actually, I was calling to invite you someplace tonight at my father’s request, and I’ve just gotten a text from Morgana, and I’m thinking it might be fun to adjust the plans to include your friends. Let me make a call, and I’ll get back to you.”

Merlin eats his breakfast and waits, wondering what Arthur’s got in mind.

It turns out to be one of those times where initially it seems a fun idea that could never work out because of the short notice and the logistics of accommodating all those involved, but then it just magically falls into place and everything works out.

It seems that Uther has a house (he calls it a house, everyone else uses the more correct term--mansion) in Jim’s Beard, an off-the-map country village a couple hours’ drive away. Uther, Nevin, Leon, Percival, Morgana, and her PA Freya (“Because,” Arthur tells Merlin, “Morgana can’t take two minutes away from work, much less two days”) take one town car, while Arthur, Merlin, Will, Gwaine, Elena, Lance, and Gwen take another.

Gwaine has cancelled dinner with his own mother to take this trip, and loudly tells everyone this, completely unashamed as he climbs the wide staircase to the upper floor of the house, overnight bag over his shoulder.

“And she doesn’t mind—Mum wants me to taste the lap of luxury once in my life.” Elena guffaws at him, giving him a little shove, and he captures her and pulls her close, kissing her on top of her tussled blond hair as they reach the landing.

After they’ve found their rooms and settled in, Merlin walks into the hall and is immediately accosted by Will.

“Did you lay eyes on the gorgeous bird with the long black hair?” his friend practically squeaks, his grip on Merlin’s arm edging on painful.

Merlin plies Will’s fingers off and rubs his skin. “Are you talking about Morgana? She’s Arthur’s sister, you tosser. Don’t you dare do something to embarrass me, like fondle her tits!” Merlin hisses, pointed index finger almost touching Will’s nose.

Will bites his lip. “But they’re bloody beautiful tits, Merlin! Big and round and…” He makes a jutting motion with his chest and hands.

“Shh!” Merlin kicks him in the shin as Arthur emerges from his room.

“All settled?” Arthur asks Merlin and Will, looking from one to the other. “Will, is there something I can help you with? Did you find everything you need?”

“Your sister is bloody sex-on-legs!” Will blurts out, and Merlin winces before sharply palming Will upside the head.

Rather than get angry, Arthur leans forward and says. “You should tell her that, mate. She’ll love it.”

Merlin raises a brow, and Will’s eyes widen cartoonishly.

When everyone meets in the great room a while later, Will holds a raw piece of tenderloin to his right eye. “Fucker,” he mouths at Arthur, who grins at him.

Morgana’s busy dictating to Freya, a small, wide-eyed girl that Merlin immediately likes when she whispers to him that his fly is unzipped, looking both extremely embarrassed but determined to be helpful. Uther looks like the cat who stole the cream, curled up with Nevin on the plush, wide sofa that extends most of the wall on one side of the room, his chin on the smaller man’s shoulder and their hands entwined. An open panel reveals a huge movie screen with surround sound which has Gwaine dancing on his toes in enthusiasm. He, Lance, and Gwen go over the extensive library of movies while Nevin extracts himself from Uther to see about dinner.

“I do believe your father is actually pouting about Nevin leaving the room,” Merlin tells Arthur with amusement.

Arthur nods. “They’ve been together eight years, can you believe it? I think they’re soul mates.” He looks contemplative. “I know my father loved my mother, but I really don’t think it came anywhere close to how he feels about Nev.” He glances a Merlin a little shyly, and then away, and Merlin takes his hand, squeezing it.

“He’s a lucky man,” Merlin says, giving Arthur a soft kiss on the cheek.

Gwen and Elena trail after Nevin to see if he needs help with anything.   
  
“He’s so lovely,” Gwen stops to tell Arthur. “And so is your father, too, of course!” She’s quick to say, turning pink. She hurries after Elena, who is already laughing loudly at something Nevin’s said in the other room.  
  
Uther has taken this opportunity to properly instruct the rest of Merlin’s friends on the history of the house and its surrounding woods. Arthur still holds Merlin’s hand in his, and he presses it to his lips, gently and almost absently running them over the tops of Merlin’s knuckles as they listen to Uther. Merlin notices that, while doing this, Arthur is also breathing in the scent of Merlin’s skin. The gesture immediately makes Merlin hard, and he wonders what’s going on with him that he’s so fucking turned on my Arthur’s attraction to the way he smells. His heartbeat accelerates along with his breathing, and he suddenly wishes they were anywhere private, because at that moment he hedonistically wants to just let Arthur do to him what he will.   
  
Merlin trembles. Arthur notices, and glances his way. Uther’s voice drones on. Percy and Leon have heard it all be before, judging by the way their faces have shut down. Percy looks like he’s planning out his agenda for the next three months, while Leon might very well be asleep with his eyes open. The only person who looks like they might be even remotely enjoying the age-old history of the manner is Freya, who Arthur’s mentioned has a minor in British history.   
  
Merlin can see Gwaine is obviously pulling his well-refined “perfect student” act left-over from school days when he wanted to impress the teacher, but Will isn’t even trying to pretend; he presses the steak to his eye and scowls at the room in general and Arthur in particular. Morgana has pulled out an emery board and sits on the sofa calmly filing her nails.  
  
When Arthur’s tongue touches Merlin’s skin, Merlin's whole body jolts, and he can feel Arthur’s smile against his hand, the bastard. They haven’t done much more than snog—a little arse-groping and cock-palming through clothes. Merlin hasn’t held off having sex this long with someone he really wants in his life, and he honestly can’t recall ever wanting anyone as much as he wants the man beside him who is driving him absolutely mad just by messing around with Merlin’s hand.  
  
To top it off, when Uther says, “Isn’t that right, Arthur?” Arthur is able to answer his father in complete sentences that probably make sense, while Merlin’s mind is a complete jumble of porn shorts he’s wanked to in the past, with Merlin and Arthur playing the leading roles. When Gwaine’s eyes rake over Merlin and his eyebrow rises almost to the top of his forehead, Merlin looks down to see the biggest boner he’s ever had tenting his pants. He quickly lets go of Arthur’s hand and steps behind a table, feigning interest in an old map that’s laid out there.  
  
Unfortunately, Uther notices this and comes over to point out every spot on it.

Nevin’s son, Mordred, arrives, greeting his father, along with Elena and Gwen, in the kitchen before joining the rest of the group. Mordred lives in the area, and keeps an eye on the house when Uther and Nev aren’t there. Introductions are made all around, and Mordred rescues Merlin from the map by asking Uther to play a game of chess with him. To say that Merlin is relieved would be putting it mildly. Leon gives Merlin a wink.

“Uther’s sometimes a bit hard to take,” he tells him. “Especially when Nevin isn’t around to soften him up.”

Merlin smiles and ducks his head, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t know Leon well, having only spoken to him a handful of times. He seems a pleasant bloke, though, and Arthur calls him his best mate, so he must be all right.

“Arthur likes you a lot,” Leon tells him, after making sure no one else is listening. “He’s really a good guy. One of the best, really.”

“You don’t have to sell me on him,” Merlin says. “I can see that for myself.”

Leon smiles. “Good.”

“Dinner!” Nevin calls a few minutes later, initiating a stampede into the dining room where Elena and Gwen are arranging plates on the sideboard. Merlin tugs Arthur by the arm, holding him back so that they are the last to leave the TV room.

“I am going to get you back for that, Arthur,” he threatens in Arthur’s ear.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks, his lips twitching.

“I spent fifteen minutes hiding a hard-on from your father while listening to him talk about regions and dividing lines while all I could think about was you and your bloody lips!” Because Arthur’s lips are red and pouty and just beg to be kissed.

Arthur smiles and leans in, running those lips over Merlin’s teasingly. Merlin grabs him by the arms and pulls him close, kissing him hard, molding their mouths together until their bodies just sink into one being. Merlin feels Arthur hardening against Merlin’s thigh and opens his mouth, thrusting his tongue into Arthur’s mouth and pushing Arthur’s head back relentlessly as his hands move back to cup Arthur’s perfect arse cheeks in a possessive move that goes a long way in making Merlin feel better.

Arthur moans into Merlin’s mouth, responding enthusiastically by thrusting his groin into him. When they break the kiss, they’re both panting. “Now we have to go eat and we’re both hard,” Merlin rasps.

Arthur catches Merlin’s lower lip between his teeth, pulling it out slightly before letting it go. “Maybe I can visit your room tonight?” he breathes hopefully.

Merlin smiles. “Maybe.”

They make adjustments to their pants and head for the dining room, filling their plates and joining the others. Merlin is sure Gwaine notices the state of his crotch, the wanker.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Nev,” Uther says, kissing his partner on the cheek.

“You certainly have,” Arthur agrees, and everyone joins in, mouths full of marinated chicken, sweetened asparagus, corn, potatoes, and home-made rolls.

“Please teach Elena to cook like this,” Gwaine begs, and Elena kicks him under the table.

“Shut up, you,” she says good-naturedly.

“I would love to be able to cook like this,” Gwen gushes.

“You’re a wonderful cook, luv,” Lance hurries to assure her.

“Oh, you’re so whipped,” Gwaine rolls his eyes. “Oi! I am going to have bruises all over! Stop kicking me!”

No one misses the flirting going on between Mordred and Morgana, and Merlin looks to Will to gauge his reaction, surprised to find that he’s deep in a conversation with Freya. Merlin feels suddenly content. This impromptu weekend is turning into something completely unexpected and fun.

After the meal, the men clean up, with the exception of Nev, and everyone convenes in the TV room again where someone has chosen _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy to watch on the huge screen. Merlin cuddles up with Arthur on the sofa, both slipping off their shoes and throwing an afghan over their bodies, nestling down into the soft pillows. Arthur burrows into Merlin’s neck, breathing him in, his fingers lacing with Merlin’s under the afghan.

Uther and Nev get through _The Fellowship of the_ Ring before announcing they’re going to bed. Gwaine immediately calls the double recliner with built in massage that the older men have vacated, opening his arms to invite Elena to join him with a lecherous grin on his face.

Halfway through _The Two Towers,_ Percy is stretched on the floor, hands behind his head, snoring loudly.

“Oi,” Leon says, nudging him. “Perce, go to bed.”

Percy draws in a long breath through his nose and rubs his face. “Okay,” he rolls over and goes back to sleep. Leon sighs and shifts on the pillows next to him, his hand absentmindedly rubbing Percy’s hipbone. Merlin glances as Arthur, who is a heavy weight on his side, his nose pressed to Merlin’s armpit, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. Merlin smiles, content to let Arthur sleep while he watches the movie. Having Arthur pressed so trustingly against him feels somehow _right_ to Merlin.

Will makes commentary throughout the film, ranging from the believability of special effects to his suspicions that Legolas is gay.

“He’s an elf. They swing both ways,” Mordred replies to this.

Will gives him a look. “You say it like you know this for a fact.”

“Magical creatures don’t have to deal with society’s moral restrictions on their sexuality.” Mordred shrugs.

“Elves aren’t magical,” Will argues.

“Of course they are,” Mordred scoffs.

“Merlin, are elves magical?” Will asks.

“I’m not getting into this,” Merlin answers, his voice disturbing Arthur, who snorts and moves about a bit before breathing into Merlin’s side and dozing off again, his hand gripping Merlin’s T-shirt.

“Will you two please shut up?” Morgana says caustically. “Elves are fictitious, so who the fuck cares?”

“No, they aren’t,” Mordred replies. “Elves are real. Ask anyone in Ireland.”

“Oh, my God,” Morgana moans. “So you’re saying there’s a bunch of bi-sexual elves running around Ireland?

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Mordred answers seriously.

Freya starts to giggle.

Leon looks at Mordred over his shoulder, amusement on his face. “Isn’t Legolas a wood-elf, Mordred? That sounds pretty manly to me.” Merlin gets the feeling that Leon’s had experience egging Mordred on.

“Actually, he just lives among the Silvan wood elves. He’s really a grey elf. One of the Sindar,” Mordred corrects him.

“Oh, of course. How silly of me.” Leon sighs and goes back to watching the movie.

“I forgot what a nerd you can be,” Morgana tells Mordred. “I like you better when you don’t talk. I’m going to bed.” She gets up.

“Gross, Merlin,” she pauses at Merlin’s side. “My brother is going to drool all over you.” She wrinkles her nose as she watches Arthur’s lax face.

“S’okay,” Merlin says, running his fingers through Arthur’s blond hair. “He’s cute.”

“If you say so.” Morgana leaves the room.

“Gwaine, keep your hands to yourself!” Elena giggles from the chair.

“I’m only trying to get comfortable.”

“You’re like an octopus!”

“Let’s head up to bed,” Gwaine suggests. “You can tuck me and my eight arms in.”

Elena laughs, but gets up out of the chair, pulling Gwaine after her. They tell everyone goodnight and disappear up the stairs.

Gwen and Lance are seriously watching the movie, Gwen tucked into the V of Lance’s thighs at one end of the large sofa. “I just love this film,” Gwen sighs. “The bromance between Frodo and Sam is so sweet.”

“Oh, well, now, they’re definitely gay,” Mordred says and everyone turns to look at him.

“Why do you say that?” Freya asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mordred asks. “Sam’s a bottom if I’ve ever seen one. They’re fucking each other all right. They’re in the closet, as they would have to be in the shire.”

 “So it’s not okay to be gay if you’re a hobbit?” Will clarifies, looking at Mordred scornfully.

Mordred shrugs his shoulders. “I dunno. There’s no such thing as hobbits, idiot.”

“That’s it. Goodnight.” Will rises and leaves the room. Leon is laughing into Percy’s shoulder, which wakes him up.

“Ready for bed, big boy?”

Percy mumbles and allows Leon to help him to his feet. “Goodnight, everyone,” Leon says, leading Percy out.

“I guess I’ll go, too,” Freya yawns. She folds up her blanket. Mordred soon follows, and Merlin looks back a Lance, who is now a pillow for the sleeping Gwen.

“Looks like our marathon movie night is breaking up.”

“I’m not really tired. Want to watch this to the end?” Lance asks.

  
Merlin nods, settling in. When it’s over and the credits are rolling, Lance gently prods Gwen until she unwinds and stands, and Merlin kisses the top of Arthur’s head.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. You slept through two movies,” he says softly into Arthur’s warm forehead.

Arthur looks around the darkened room sheepishly. “Oh—‘m sorry. ‘s everyone gone to bed?” He watches as Lance and Gwen stagger out of the room.

“Yep. And you’ve drooled a puddle on me.”

Arthur starts, looking down at Merlin’s T-shirt. “Fuck! Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Merlin tells him, pulling him close and kissing his sleep-heated lips.

Arthur responds immediately, shifting so that he covers Merlin with this body, his lips greedily moving from mouth to cheek to jaw, filling Merlin with sensation so that he arches into Arthur, moaning his name.

For long moments there is no other sound except for the wet clash of tongues and quiet moans and whimpers.  
  
“Shirt,” Arthur directs, and helps Merlin peel it off, and then Arthur’s lips are all over Merlin’s chest, kissing, his tongue lapping at him. Merlin’s gasps. He’s so hard, he hurts, and Arthur is biting at him like he’s something good to eat, groaning in the back of his throat in a way that makes Merlin tingle in anticipation.  
  
“God, you smell so good…so good, Merlin…” Arthur murmurs, breathing Merlin in, nuzzling up under his arm in a way that turns Merlin’s cheeks pink but also has him dry humping like a horny dog. Arthur’s nose is buried in Merlin’s armpit, his mouth on the sensitive skin underneath, licking and nibbling, and Merlin’s so fucking hard he wants to cry.  
  
“Arthur, Arthur, shit, Arthur!” Merlin wriggles, trying to rub his dick against something, anything.”Please!”  
  
Arthur moves his face downward, kissing and sucking at Merlin’s skin, lapping at his belly, burying his nose in Merlin’s navel, the palm of his hand on Merlin’s stiff cock beneath his jeans. Merlin’s breath is coming hard, his ears buzzing. He feels Arthur open his fly. “Yes, God, yes,” Merlin approves, pushing up as Arthur pulls at his jeans and pants, and then Arthur’s nuzzling his groin, his fucking face buried in it, breathing in like he can’t get enough, and it’s so bloody hot Merlin can’t stand it.   
  
“Oh, yeah,” Arthur lets out a shaky breath and he mouths at the papery skin of Merlin’s balls, tugging it between his lips. Merlin lets out a whine that would be embarrassing if Merlin wasn’t so far gone and if Arthur weren’t panting himself like he’s run a race.   
  
Merlin can see Arthur’s arse moving, humping at the pillows as he continues to sniff and suck at Merlin like a man possessed. It’s too much, and Merlin squeezes his eyes shut. Almost the moment that Arthur’s mouth finally takes him in, Merlin’s coming, pulsing so hard his head hurts with it. He feels Arthur's hot breath around his wet cock, spit pooling as Arthur continues to suckle every last drop, and Merlin shudders, gasping, arse clenching and hands reaching out to grab at Arthur’s head, forcing it down, making him take him all in.  
  
Arthur greedily does so, swallowing before pulling off and burrowing his nose in the dip between Merlin’s thigh and groin, his body jerking.  _God, he’s cumming in his fucking pants_ Merlin thinks, and his cock twitches in reaction, a dribble of spunk making its way out the slit.  
  
They lay, breathing hard, listening to the settling of the old house around them and the occasional creak from somewhere upstairs. Slowly, Merlin’s body rhythms return to normal. He lifts his hand and places it on Arthur’s soft hair, caressing it between his fingers. His mouth is dry and his body numb with repletion. Arthur is a heavy yet comfortable weight on his side, and neither man seems eager to move any time soon. Merlin can’t recall ever feeling so satisfied and happy as he does in that moment.

“God, Arthur, I can’t move,” Merlin finally rasps out. He’s becoming aware that, while he’s pretty much naked (unless he counts his pants and jeans puddled around one foot), Arthur is still fully clothed.

Arthur’s heavy breathing has slowed and he lies with his face on Merlin’s belly, one arm wrapped around Merlin’s bare leg.

“Are you alive?” Merlin says, raising his head and looking down. Arthur slowly nods, his arm pulling Merlin’s leg closer to his chest.

“Give me a minute,” Arthur says quietly, his voice hoarse.

Merlin rests his head on the cushion, okay with staying like they are for a while, although he would really like to get his hands all over Arthur. He hasn’t even gotten to see him naked. He resumes threading his fingers through Arthur’s silky hair.


	4. The Pendragon Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of sniffing going on.

“That was a bit one-sided,” Merlin tells him after a moment. “I’d really like to reciprocate, if we can just get ourselves to a bedroom.”

Arthur slowly unwinds, moving upward until his face is inches from Merlin’s. Is it a trick of the moonlight edging past the drapes, or are Arthur’s eyes wet?-- Merlin wonders before Arthur’s lips descend on his in a tentative, gentle kiss that squeezes at his heart and sends it thumping off tempo again. Arthur’s tongue is soft, hot, and wet, lapping into Merlin’s mouth, claiming it. Merlin reaches down and snakes his hand under Arthur’s shirt and up his smooth belly to where soft hairs cover hard pectoral muscles. His fingers find a nipple and squeeze, making Arthur gasp into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin continues alternately squeezing and brushing his thumb against Arthur’s nipple while they kiss, until Arthur is making noises that have Merlin’s cock half-hard again. He moves his mouth to nibble on Arthur’s warm neck while Arthur pants softly into the quiet.

“Upstairs, Arthur,” Merlin says into Arthur’s ear, eliciting a shudder. Arthur nods and moves off Merlin, helping him to get his jeans back on with shaking, hurried hands. They climb the stairs on wobbly legs, hands clasped. Someone is talking in low voices in a room down the hall, and Merlin thinks he recognizes Will’s voice.

“Father and Nev’s room is on the other side of the house,” Arthur tells Merlin, perhaps thinking he’s worried about propriety. He is, a little, but at the moment his need for Arthur is so great he thinks he’d ignore pretty much anything to get at him. He’s glad they’ve already had the safe sex discussion and willingly shared certificates of full health. Not that they plan to bare-back or anything, but Arthur did just swallow a considerable amount of Merlin’s cum while Merlin pretty much held his head down. He blushes remembering it.

Arthur leads Merlin into his room and locks the door behind them.

“Get undressed,” Merlin tells him, tired of waiting.

Arthur yanks his shirt off, advancing on Merlin, who meets him halfway, yanking Arthur forward by his hips and covering his mouth with a heated kiss.

Arthur moans, and Merlin places his thigh between Arthur’s legs, rubbing it against him as Merlin sets his tongue to plundering Arthur’s mouth. He moves his hands around to grasp Arthur’s muscled back, pulling him closer. Arthur growls deep in his throat, a sound that goes straight to Merlin’s cock, swinging Merlin around, crashing him against the wall, pushing up against him until Merlin brings his legs up around his waist, squeezing tightly. Their mouths work over one another hungrily, sucking and biting.

“God, I don’t want to come in my pants again,” Arthur groans after a few moments more, and he sets Merlin down and starts working his own pants open. Merlin breathes hard, sagging against the wall and watching Arthur undress, lips reddened and aching for Arthur’s mouth, eyes eagerly taking in every strip of revealed flesh.

When Arthur’s completely naked, Merlin gazes at him, loving the lean lines of him, the chiseled hip bones and muscled thighs, the defined abs and gorgeous cock. His mouth waters and he pulls Arthur to him, crashing their lips together, his hands automatically seeking Arthur’s spectacular bum and squeezing appreciatively.

Arthur whimpers, hands in Merlin’s hair. Merlin reaches down and possessively grasps Arthur’s cock in his hand, gently twisting the hot, silky skin and pulling at it, making Arthur writhe and moan into Merlin’s mouth before bowing his head to pant into Merlin’s shoulder. It takes only a few pulls and Arthur’s coming all over Merlin’s hand, his face buried in Merlin’s neck.

Merlin holds him tightly, feeling Arthur shudder against him, his own body aroused again but content to wait or do without. He notices that Arthur has a scent of his own, and Merlin likes it; it’s warm and woodsy and unique. He kisses Arthur’s ear, licking at the sweat there before gently nudging him backward in the general direction of the bed.

Once Arthur is spread out, body recovering and eyes heavy and satiated, Merlin quickly undresses and lies down beside him, pulling him close, kissing his hair, heart full, content to just hold him. Arthur’s breathing evens out in the quiet darkness as he runs appreciative fingers down Merlin’s body, pausing to play with a taut nipple, tug at sparse chest hair, and dip into his shallow navel. Merlin squirms, his cock filling fully again. Arthur is such a heady combination of smooth hardness against his body—everything that turns him on about the male form—he is certain he could cum from just touching him.

Arthur shifts and pushes Merlin’s arms up over his head, pinning them there with his hand as he plants a gentle kiss to Merlin’s mouth, tongue barely grazing Merlin’s lips before moving off to neck and ear, driving Merlin mad so that he arches up, cock pointing straight to the ceiling.

“Arthur…” he moans.

“So beautiful,” Arthur says on a whisper, his lips brushing Merlin’s raised shoulder before moving to the underside of his arm, and then below, to softer skin covered in sparse, coarse hair. He laps at the sweat there with his tongue, burrowing his nose deep in the center of Merlin’s armpit. Merlin feels the shudder of desire run the full length of Arthur’s body and his own body trembles in answer. His cock reaches into the open air, frantic for something to touch, crying out drops of thick white that tease as they run down the hot, stiff length of him.

He sobs in pleasure as Arthur moves over him, firm stomach barely brushing the tip of Merlin’s dick as he passes, settling on Merlin’s other side and lavishing equal attention to the other armpit, tugging at the dark, sparse hair growing there with his teeth after licking up the pooling sweat. It’s all so fucking erotic and so far from what Merlin would ever have thought he’d have found pleasurable, he’s ready to shoot his load then and there.

He knows he’s like fucking steel, _again_ , and he just wants Arthur to touch him there…

As though he’s read his mind, Arthur reaches down, fingers ghosting over Merlin’s tight ball sac. Merlin gasps, jerking his hips, but Arthur has him pinned with his leg. Fingers move up the granite length of him.

“So hard for me,” Arthur breathes reverently, smoothing pre-cum into Merlin’s hot skin, palm encircling him. Arthur’s lips move to Merlin’s nipple, pressing it between them as he continues to stroke his prick. Merlin cries out, dizzy and wanton with want. He feels the tip of Arthur’s tongue touch his nipple and he keens, hips jerking as Arthur’s hand keeps its excruciatingly slow pace.

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” Arthur says. “I want you so much.”

The pressure builds inside him, making Merlin dizzy with it. Arthur’s name comes on small gasps as Arthur takes to Merlin’s nipple like a suckling baby. Merlin begins to babble nonsensically as his climax nears, Arthur’s palm brushing over the head of Merlin’s dick setting off a buzz in his head and lights sparking behind his eyes.

Arthur’s face turns, Merlin feels teeth sink into the soft skin under his arm, and he’s flying, a yell leaving his mouth before he can stop it, and somewhere in the back of his mind it registers that Arthur is French kissing his armpit, and that just brings another shudder of desire and spurt of cum out of him, a double climax, before he subsides, breathing hard, his wrists freed from Arthur’s grip, and Arthur’s strong arms wrapped around him.

 

~~~~

Merlin awakens in his own room to the singular sound of Uther Pendragon singing an ‘80’s pop ballad beneath his window, which is open. Muted laughter and applause follows, and Merlin turns in the bed, cringing a bit because his muscles are sore—probably from wrestling Arthur like an alligator the night before. A big, sexy alligator.

Merlin smiles, digging his mobile out of the pocket of his jeans, which are in a puddle at the bottom of the bed. It’s a little later than he thought, and he gets up, stumbling into the adjoining bathroom for a quick shower. He foregoes a shave, leaving the dark stubble, and brushes his teeth. He shouts “Come in!” at the knock on his door.

Gwaine appears, bright and bushy-tailed. “Morning, mate! Sleep well?” he asks, messing up Merlin’s freshly combed hair so that he has to start all over again.

“Wanker,” Merlin mumbles, moving away. “Yes, I slept very well, thanks. You?”

“Like a baby—country air and all. They’ve got a big breakfast buffet set up downstairs. Elena’s on her second plate. I swear, she’s going to be a bloody whale one of these days, and I’m going to have to leave her.”

“You’d never,” Merlin grins.

“You certainly landed a rich one this time,” Gwaine replies, heading back into the bedroom and flopping down on Merlin’s bed.

“Not that you didn’t already know that,” Merlin reminds him, “since you insisted on having him checked out. And I’m not dating Arthur for his money.” Merlin slips into his shoes.

“I know; you wouldn’t. But still…he’s bloody loaded. And can you believe his dad? I mean, who’s got a gay dad?” Gwaine shakes his head. “Unbelievable. And that sister of his. She looks like she stepped out of a fucking magazine. In fact, now that you mention it, so does Arthur. Is he still sniffing you?”

Merlin colors, something he’s been doing a lot of lately. “He just likes the way I smell. You make it sound so weird, Gwaine. I think it’s hot.”

“Oh, I can see that it’s hot—You’re not talking to Will here, mate.” Gwaine grins widely, and Merlin can’t help but grin back. They go downstairs together, and when Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes across the room, it’s like electro shock applied to his body. All the intimate details from the night before come flooding back, and Merlin wants him all over again. He has to look away, occupying himself with filling his breakfast plate.

“Did you live with Arthur and Morgana?” Elena is asking Mordred as Merlin sits down at the table.

“No, I lived with my mother here in Jim’s Beard,” Mordred answers. He takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never lived with my father. He basically did the gay-bestie deal where he got her pregnant as a favor so she could have a child. Sometimes I think he feels more like Arthur and Morgana’s mother than like my father.”

Merlin looks up from his food, studying Mordred’s face, which appears neutral. Something about the lack of emotion gives Merlin the creeps.

Lance and Gwen come in from outside where they were apparently accompanying Uther and Nevin on a walk about the garden. Gwen’s cheeks are flushed from the morning air, and she looks charmingly pretty in a bright sun dress and matching sweater. She gets some eggs and toast from the sideboard and sits next to Merlin, nudging him with her elbow, a small smile on her face.

“It’s lovely here,” she says in a low voice. “And Arthur is lovely, too.”

Merlin glances over at her, gratified, and they share a smile and another shoulder nudge before resuming eating. Gwen has always understood him.

Arthur is sitting too far away, as far as Merlin is concerned, over on the other end of the long table, with Morgana on one side and Leon on the other. Merlin thinks that’s probably for the best as far as his digestion is concerned, but then Uther takes a seat next to Mordred, and Merlin’s bacon immediately goes down the wrong way, forcing Gwen to have to pound him on the back for a solid minute. The elder Pendragon makes him decidedly nervous.

“Oi, Gwen, okay…I’m going to have bruises,” he croaks, after taking a long drink of water.

“Sorry,” she says. “Got a bit carried away. What did you ask me, Mordred?”

Merlin’s noticed that Mordred has been plying Gwen with questions ever since she sat down, barely giving her time to get a morsel of food in her mouth, which probably accounts for the frustrated beating he just got.

“Merlin, did you and Arthur finish your movie marathon? Gwen tells me she fell asleep,” Uther says, his voice loud in the room despite everyone else talking and the sounds of silverware clinking on plates.

“No, sir. Well,” he amends, “Lance and I watched through the second movie, but Arthur and Gwen fell asleep early on. They are rather long films.”

Uther chuckles. “That they are. I’ve never quite developed a taste for fantasy film, although Nev likes them well enough.” He sends his partner a cherishing look where he sits chatting with Percy, Gwaine, and Will, and Merlin gets the feeling that Uther would sit through Bugs Bunny cartoons if Nev so desired, and declare them absolutely riveting. It makes Merlin melt inside, the idea of this obviously strong and independent man softening and bending out of love.

“Mordred certainly knows a lot about them,” Merlin says, glancing Mordred’s way, thinking to draw the strange man into the conversation, but Mordred seems to be earnestly discussing something with Gwen.

“Yes, Mordred has always had a taste for fantasy,” Uther replies blandly. “May I ask where you and my son met? I don’t remember you telling me before.”

Merlin blinks, a bite of beans half-way to his mouth. He sets it down. “Oh, at the gym. I believe Arthur met a client there that day.”

 

Uther nods. “Oh, yes. I remember now. Actually, it was someone we were trying to woo away from House of Mercia . Didn’t pan out. Arthur tells me you smell exceptional.”

Uther’s way of switching from topic to topic rattles Merlin. Once again he has to set his fork down so as not to have to speak with a mouthful of food.

“Arthur says that, but I really can’t imagine what he’s on about. I’ve certainly never been told so before. I don’t even wear scent, due to being allergic.”

“And therein lies your answer.” Uther points his fork at Merlin. “Arthur noticed you precisely because you weren’t wearing any scent, which covers up your true smell, and you’ve never been told before because you’ve never had a trained nose of my son’s caliber near your body.”

Merlin can’t argue with that, so he remains quiet, taking the opportunity to eat a bite. Frankly, the words _trained nose of my son’s caliber_ turned him on a little.

“You’ll have to let me get a whiff of you,” Uther tells him, digging into his black pudding.

Merlin just manages to swallow his eggs, alarmed. “Well, er, Morgana has already been forced to do so and found me decidedly disappointing,” he laughs nervously.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Uther licks his lips, eyes on his plate as he continues working through his breakfast. “I have a most singular nose, and no offense to my daughter, but the Pendragon men have always been able to decipher, categorize, and appreciate smell on a higher level than the women. Meet me in my rooms after breakfast? Arthur will join us, of course.”

“Of course,” Merlin murmurs, casting a nervous look Arthur’s way, but finding him busy talking with Leon and Freya.

Watching Arthur’s red, pouty lips, Merlin has a sudden memory of those lips buried beneath Merlin’s arm, and the singular feel of Arthur’s tongue frantically swirling over the soft, sensitive skin there, and his trousers get tighter in the crotch area. He surreptitiously adjusts himself beneath the cloth napkin on his lap. He glances at Uther, still eating across the table, then over at Gwen, who has gone almost catatonic over Mordred’s monologue on which _Star Trek_ captain was superior.

“And can you believe I had a girlfriend once who argued _Pike_ was the best captain?” Mordred asks, wide-eyed.

“I can’t believe you had a _girlfriend_ ,” Gwen answers before immediately covering her mouth and turning bright red. Merlin bursts into laughter, grabbing the attention of the entire table and eliciting a fond smile from Arthur. Mordred scowls.

“Sorry, mate, but it was a good one, you have to admit,” Merlin says, pushing back his chair and putting his napkin on the table. At least his woody has subsided in the merriment. Gwen quickly follows suit, eager to be away from the strange Mordred. She motions for Lance to continue eating and walks outside with Merlin into the garden.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Gwen asks, indicating the riot of flowers growing around them.

“Yes,” Merlin agrees, and it is. He doesn’t know a lot about gardening, but the variety and colour of the plants is definitely striking.

“Uther’s hobby is gardening, while Nev’s is cooking. They’re such a fantastic couple,” Gwen says on a sigh. “Lance and I spent an hour or so with them this morning.” She eyes Merlin suspiciously. “You must have been tired, sleeping in like that.”

“Very,” Merlin smiles cheekily, and Gwen gives him a playful push.

“Uther wants to smell my skin after he finishes eating,” Merlin tells her. “Evidently he holds Arthur’s opinion in great regard.”

Gwen moves toward Merlin, sniffing at his shoulder. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, you certainly don’t smell bad or anything, but…nothing special.” She wrinkles her nose.

Merlin pulls back, mock-affronted. “Obviously you don’t have a pedigree Pendragon nose,” he admonishes.

“Making fun of the Pendragon nose?” a voice from behind them causes Merlin to jump.

Arthur smiles and wraps an arm around his waist. “Relax, will you?”

Merlin puts a hand to his heart. “Just glad it’s not your father,” Merlin sighs, giving Arthur a hug about the middle. “Do you know he wants to smell me now?”

A delighted look comes over Arthur’s face. “Wonderful! So the old man really does listen to me now and then.”

Merlin bites his lip. “I’m supposed to meet him in his rooms. We are,” he amends, motioning between himself and Arthur.

“Well that’s good. I wouldn’t want him to smell you alone—he might not be able to control himself.”

Both Merlin and Gwen look discomfited at that, and Arthur begins to laugh. “Joke, you two,” he says, eyes crinkling with his smile, and they relax.

“Come on, Merlin, let’s get this over with, if you’re so nervous,” Arthur says, taking his hand. “Please excuse us, Gwen.” He leads Merlin inside and up the back stairs to a part of the house Merlin hasn’t seen yet.

Uther and Nevin’s suite of rooms is decorated entirely in yellows and various shades of green. Arthur and Merlin find Arthur’s father coming out of the bathroom. Nevin is sprawled on a chaise lounge with a book.

“I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast, Nev,” Arthur says easily, leaning on the back of a large wing-back chair.

“Bit of a stomach ache this morning,” Nevin answers with a smile. “And stop looking at me that way, Uther, I’m fine,” he adds, without even glancing Uther’s way. Uther is, in fact, giving his partner a very concerned stare, and at Nev’s words, he blinks and looks away.

Arthur chuckles. “I’ve brought Merlin up for your whiffing pleasure, Father. Are your nostrils ready for a treat?”

Merlin shakes his head, whispering, “Arthur,” and wants to crawl under the bed. Arthur gives Merlin’s hand a squeeze of reassurance before letting it go.

“Certainly,” Uther answers. “Nevvy, where’s my blindfold?”

“By the bed, I think,” Nev answers without looking up from his book, and Arthur and Merlin share a look. Merlin has to bite his lip hard not to laugh, and Arthur looks a bit like some of his breakfast might have come back up.

Uther finds it, ties it on, and Arthur directs Merlin to take off his shirt. “First just hold your arm out.” He tells Merlin before guiding his father a few steps forward and giving him Merlin’s wrist.

“Being blindfolded helps one concentrate only on the sense of smell,” Arthur tells Merlin as Uther begins sniffing the palm of Merlin’s hand before advancing to his wrist and then up the soft inside of his arm to the inner elbow, burying his nose there. Merlin suppresses a giggle.

“I’m ticklish,” he says, with an apologetic grin.

“Extraordinary,” Uther murmurs, proceeding upward, and Arthur gives Merlin a significant look.

“Don’t be enjoying yourself too much, Budge,” Nev says from his seat as he turns a page. Merlin’s not sure what the nickname’s about, but somehow feels it suits Uther, who probably never budges except where spritely Nevin’s concerned.

When Uther reaches the crook of Merlin’s neck, Merlin’s eyes widen, for it’s quite intimate having the man run his nose over the tendon there, as well as up behind Merlin’s sensitive ear. Merlin’s been staring at the ceiling, almost like he’s having a doctor’s exam, but now his eyes lock with Arthur’s.

“Rich, earthy,” Uther says. “Put your arm behind your head.”

Merlin does so, and Uther moves to his armpit. Nevin takes a sudden interest then, putting his magazine down and sitting up. Uther places his large hands on Merlin’s bare sides to steady himself as he runs the tip of his nose over the underside of Merlin’s raised arm, rustling through the dark hairs growing there. Arthur’s lips part, and he licks them. Merlin’s eyes momentarily move to the moisture there, fixating on the pout that would fit so perfectly around the head of his cock, before returning to his intense blue gaze.

Uther takes a deep breath in, saying something Merlin doesn’t hear because he’s suddenly hornier than hell.

“You can put your arm down now,” Uther says a bit louder, and Merlin starts. Uther’s removed his blindfold.

“You’re quite right, Arthur, there is something about him that I find very intriguing.” Uther is moving to his desk, riffling through papers for a pen. He begins writing, and Arthur motions for Merlin to follow him.

“He’ll be busy a while. You’ve inspired him.” Arthur smiles, his eyes still burning into Merlin’s. Merlin grabs up his shirt, and they just make it back to Merlin’s room before Arthur has Merlin up against the wall and is kissing the life out of him.

“Hate’d seeing him doing what I wanted to be doing,” Arthur growls, and Merlin squeezes his eyes shut as his cock gets impossibly harder in his jeans. He doesn’t understand this frightening attraction he has to Arthur, nor the way Arthur seems to want to devour him whole. But he _wants_.

His hands tug plaintively at Arthur’s shirt until Arthur removes it, and Merlin finds himself biting into Arthur’s neck, feral instinct taking over as he pushes Arthur toward the bed. Arthur already has his hands down the back of Merlin’s jeans, fingers insistently kneading the cheeks of Merlin’s arse as Arthur’s tongue parries with Merlin’s, dueling first in Merlin’s mouth, next in Arthur’s, as the two battle for control.

They wrestle each other onto the bed, neither giving in as they each seek dominance. Merlin rips the button off Arthur’s slacks, pushing them down in his eagerness to get to the rigid cock beneath. Arthur’s head falls back when Merlin touches him, surrendering, and Merlin sucks a triumphant love bite just above Arthur’s collar bone, finding the skin there delicious. He realizes for the first time that Arthur doesn’t wear cologne, either, and Merlin doesn’t smell soap or any other scent, so he runs his nose over the skin of Arthur’s chest, liking the way Arthur suddenly stills, his body quiet except for his heavy breathing.

Merlin’s noticed the woodsy smell of Arthur before, and as his nose creeps closer to the curve of Arthur’s neck, Merlin finds it’s stronger there, as it is behind Arthur’s ear. Merlin licks at the curves and bites the lobe, enjoying the way the other man’s breath hitches in his throat, while Merlin’s hand continues to fondle and pleasure below Arthur’s waist. Arthur arches and groans, shaking hand reaching for Merlin, tracing the outline of Merlin’s throbbing cock caught between his leg and his jeans with his thumb.

Merlin thinks about the night before and Arthur’s complete obsession with Merlin’s armpit. He looks down at Arthur, so gorgeous in his desire—blue eyes almost black with it. “Lift your arm, Arthur,” he says, and Arthur blinks up at him from under a piece of errant blond fringe.

“Lift your arm,” Merlin repeats. “Let me see what the fuss is about, eh?”

Desire stirs anew in Merlin’s groin as Arthur obediently moves his arm behind his head, revealing the blond hair in the dip beneath it. As Merlin looks his fill, he says, “You say you don’t have a fetish for this sort of thing?” because he had asked Arthur that at the beginning, and Arthur had told him no. Somehow, in the light of what Merlin’s seen since, that seems really difficult to believe.

When he speaks, Arthur’s voice is hoarse with desire. “I don’t. I mean, in my profession…I guess it’s natural that I do think more about smells than other people. But, I mean, I don’t have a thing for people’s private places. I didn’t bury my face in my last boyfriend’s armpit or groin.” Arthur licks his lips. “There’s just something about you, Merlin.”

Merlin reads this truth in Arthur’s eyes and nods before lowering his face to the underside of Arthur’s arm.

Merlin gently rubs his nose against the soft skin just above Arthur’s armpit before pressing his lips there. He moves lower, mouthing at soft blond hair and delicate skin, aroused by the musky scent that isn’t pungent per se, because Arthur has obviously applied unscented deodorant that morning, but is still sweaty and earthy and somehow _Arthur_. He nuzzles the area, enjoying the way Arthur moans when he does so, his cock growing in Merlin’s gentle grip. Merlin snakes his tongue out, licking at Arthur’s armpit, pushing at the hair and smoothing it down in slow, languorous laps, enjoying the way it feels against his tongue.

“Merlin…”Arthur gasps, tugging at him until Merlin moves to kiss Arthur’s mouth, hard, teeth clashing. Arthur frantically fumbles with Merlin’s jeans until they’re below Merlin’s narrow hips, pushing Merlin’s hand away so that Arthur can wrap his hand around both of their pricks. Merlin moans, sensation overwhelming him. Their pre-cum mingles as they pant into one another’s mouths, abandoning all finesse, leaning into each other. Arthur moves to lick at Merlin’s neck, and Merlin slips his hands around Arthur’s back as they roll to their sides, clutching at him as waves of pleasure wash over him and he spills over Arthur’s fingers and cock, body jerking with pleasure. Arthur cums soon after, gasping into Merlin’s ear as his right leg curls and tightens around Merlin’s waist.

“Fuck, so good,” Arthur breathes, flinging his arm over his eyes and sagging back into the mattress. “You kill me, Merlin. I can’t get fucking enough of you. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I have to go to Paris next week.”

Merlin rests his head on the pillow, heart sinking a little. “Will you be away long?”

Arthur moves his arm, peering at Merlin unhappily. “Three weeks. I have to meet with our executives there, as well as interview people for a new position. If I’d been able to get the woman from House of Mercia to come over, it might have saved me the trip, or at least shortened it, but she wouldn’t leave.” His mouth tightens. “Father really wanted her, but I’m rather glad she refused, the bitch. I don’t trust her.”

“Is that the person you were meeting at the gym the day we met?” Merlin asks, curious, and Arthur nods.

“And it was necessary to have Percy there as bodyguard?”

“I doubt it, but Father always insists.” He sighs.

Merlin reaches out, touching his finger to Arthur’s cheek. “It’ll fly by,” he says, not believing it. It’s amazing how attached he’s already become to the man lying beside him. He rests his hand on the soft hair on Arthur’s chest, feeling the heart beating beneath it.

“Hey, Merlin!” A muffled voice comes from the hallway.

Merlin moans, leaning his head back. “That’s Will.”

The doorknob turns, and Merlin jerks to a sitting position. “Fuck! We didn’t lock the door!” He quickly jerks his pants up while Arthur scrambles to make himself presentable.

“Will, give us a minute, for fuck’s sake!” Merlin yells, but Will is already half-way inside.

“Good God, can’t you two give it a break?” Will complains, throwing himself in a chair. “Freya and I want to go explore the town. Want to come with?”

Merlin pops his head and arms out of his T-shirt and glances at Arthur. “No, you two go ahead. Have fun, and we’ll all meet up to eat later, yeah?”

Will agrees, gives the rumpled bed a raised brow, then heaves himself back out of the chair, and leaves the room.

“He doesn’t stand much on ceremony, does he?” Arthur asks wryly, smoothing his hair down with his hands. Merlin shakes his head, grinning.

“Nope. But there’s no one better to have on your side when times get rough. Come on, let’s go downstairs and see what everyone else is up to.”

When they enter the hall, Merlin realizes he isn’t wearing his wrist watch. “Arthur, I left my watch in your father’s room.”

Arthur switches direction, and they head up the stairs, traversing the long hallway until they come to the door of Uther and Nev’s suite of rooms. At Arthur’s knock, Uther calls out, “Who is it?”

“Arthur. Merlin’s left his watch.”

“Come in,” Uther says, voice muffled. When they enter, Merlin has to blink several times because he is certain he couldn’t really be seeing Uther spread out on the chaise lounge with a mostly nude Nevin straddling him.

“Good Lord, Father! If you were busy, why didn’t you just say so?” Arthur blusters.

“For heaven’s sake, we’re all adults here, Arthur,” Uther swishes his hand at his son as Nevin nibbles at Uther’s neck, “Get what you need and go.”              

“It’s your own fault, Arthur,” Nevin accuses, head popping up. His dark hair is mussed and his brown eyes dance mischievously. “Having your father sniff all over Merlin like that got me going. He smells delicious in his own right, you know.”

“I don’t want to know!” Arthur exclaims, and Nevin laughs. “Come on, Merlin, find that watch, will you?”

Merlin looks around, spots it on top of a bureau, and makes a grab for it just as a rather prolonged moan leaves Uther. Merlin can’t help glancing back to see Nevin’s mouth attached to Uther’s left nipple just as Arthur shuts the door with a bang.

“You think we’re all depraved, don’t you?” Arthur asks, leaning against the wall.

Merlin laughs. “You have a very interesting family, I must say. I wonder what Morgana’s up to?”

Arthur winces, shaking his head dolefully. “I don’t want to know.”

~~~~

An impromptu game of footie in the field gets everyone hot, sweaty, and thirsty. Nevin has a pitcher of lemonade ready when they head back to the house, and Uther pulls Percy, Arthur, and Leon aside to talk business on the patio.

“Looks like you’re going to be without your piece of beefcake for a while,” Gwaine says to Merlin as they sit under the shade of an elm tree.

“Don’t call him that,” Merlin pushes his friend in the arm. “He’s a wonderful person, not a slab of meat.”

Gwaine raises a brow. “Ah, so we’re getting serious, are we?”

“Shut up, Gwaine. When are you and Elena getting married?”

Gwaine looks up at the sky. “Pleasant day today, isn’t it?”

“I thought so.”

“Did I hear my name taken in vain?” Elena plops down beside them.

“She has radar, mate,” Merlin says, laughing.

Gwaine puts an arm around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “We were just saying how great you played out there.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Elena laughs, pushing him away. “And get off—you’re sweaty and gross! I’m going in for a shower.” She gets up and heads inside the house.

“Too bad she doesn’t appreciate the way I smell,” Gwaine complains.

“Merlin,” Arthur calls, and Merlin gets up, crossing to the patio where Arthur sits across from his father. “Sorry to do this to you again, but would you let Father smell you one more time?”

Merlin widens his eyes at Arthur.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry! But you’re sweating…” Arthur grimaces.

Uther stands. “Come, Merlin,” he takes Merlin by the arm, tugging him closer. “I just want a good whiff of you while you’re perspiring.” He leans in and buries his nose in Merlin’s neck, making Merlin jump.

Nevin shakes his head from his chair in the corner where he’s been reading a magazine. “Budge, you’ve got to remember that most people don’t think like you do; you’re embarrassing the lad.”

Uther rubs his nose over Merlin’s clavicle. “This is science Nev—leave off, will you?” His voice comes out muffled.

Nev narrows his eyes, but remains silent.

Merlin is very aware of everyone’s eyes upon him as Uther moves his nose up into the damp hair behind Merlin’s ear. Merlin’s eyes move to Arthur, pleading.

“That’s enough, Father,” Arthur says, standing up.

“Actually, I’d like to get a whiff of—“ Uther begins, but Arthur cuts him off.

“No, you’re finished. Come, Merlin.” He leads Merlin into the house, leaving his father looking bemused.

“I really am very sorry,” Arthur says once they’re inside and the door’s closed.

Merlin peeks around Arthur’s shoulder through the glass to see Gwaine offering his sweaty armpit to Uther, obviously certain his scent must be at least as alluring as Merlin’s. Uther doesn’t look amused.

“No need,” Merlin says, distracted by the show. Arthur takes Merlin’s face in his hands and directs his attention back to him.

“Yes, there is a need,” Arthur says softly, and Merlin sees the worry in his eyes. “We’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

 Merlin leans in and kisses Arthur gently once, then again. “I’m a big boy,” he says. “I can take it.” He smiles.

Later that night, after a dinner that the girls insist on cooking to save Nev the trouble (Elena’s rolls are just this side of charred, Gwaine proclaiming they can play baseball with them later on), Gwaine, Mordred, and Will build a bonfire out in the field and everyone troops out with blankets to sit on and marshmallows to roast. The moon is full, fat, and bright in the cloudless night sky, and the only sound other than the crackle and snap of the flames is a church bell ringing the late hour somewhere in the distance.

They’re leaving for home in the morning. Merlin has had an enjoyable time, but has to admit he’ll be relieved to get away from Arthur’s father, who tends to look at him like he’s a succulent bit of roast and Uther wants to eat him. Arthur further strengthens the image by protectively trying to shield Merlin from his father’s penetrating stare and delicate nostrils.

“He’s in creation mode,” Arthur says in Merlin’s ear. “Nev sees it, too, which is why he’s disgruntled.”

Merlin looks across the flames at a decidedly annoyed Nevin, who ignores Uther completely, instead lavishing all his attention on his son.

“He’ll snap out of it soon enough,” Arthur tells him confidently. “Father can’t be without Nevin for long, you’ll see.” He pulls Merlin closer to him, kissing him behind the ear, and a warm feeling spreads throughout Merlin’s body. It’s contentment and something more. Something he doesn’t want to define yet because he’s afraid to. He looks around the circle of people, their faces lit by the dancing flames.

Lance and Gwen are curled together, holding their sticks full of marshmallows toward the fire, laughingly nudging the other out of the way. Elena and Gwaine make much the same picture, and surprisingly, Will appears to have become very close to Freya since their outing together that afternoon. She laughs merrily at something he says, and Will stares at her like she’s something precious he’s found.

Merlin smiles—they make a cute couple, he decides, happy for his friend. Leon and Percy talk quietly, heads bent together, and Morgana has her earbuds in, ignoring everyone else.

Merlin’s eyes return to Uther. There’s a crease between the older man’s brows, and sure enough, he’s realized he’s alone and has begun sneaking glances at his partner a couple of feet away. Merlin feels Arthur’s fingers nudging his side, in case he’s missing it. Uther clears his throat, and Merlin knows Nevin hears and ignores it, continuing to chat with Mordred, even though the latter looks like he’d rather be elsewhere. When another clearing of the throat doesn’t bring results, Uther reaches over and, to Merlin’s surprise, bodily drags Nevin over to him. Merlin can feel Arthur’s laughter against his back as they watch the smaller man struggle ineffectually in Uther’s large arms.

“Let me go, you great brute!” Nevin bellows, red in the face, his protestations drawing the amused attention of most of the group. Mordred rises to go into the house, mumbling something about parents who never grow up and the desire to watch a movie. Morgana follows.

Arthur’s lips nibble on the back of Merlin’s neck, distracting him deliciously as he watches Uther subdue Nevin with a few well-aimed kisses. Merlin suddenly has the unsettling thought that that’s the fate of all who get involved with Pendragon men—like flies caught by spiders, they are helpless to save themselves from the paralyzing prick of their charms. The thought surprises him, because the picture that the two men make is decidedly sweet.

He shakes the odd feeling off, simultaneously shaking Arthur off, his previous feeling of contentment replaced by unease and a disquiet that unsettles him.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Arthur asks, concerned, and Merlin doesn’t know what to tell him, because he doesn’t know himself.


	5. To Paris and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: barebacking, armpit fucking (yes, you read that right), shower-wanking, lewd photos...

 

Once back at home, Merlin does his best to take a step back from Arthur, who is flying to Paris at the end of the week anyway, so it’s better to just start now, right? But he doesn’t count on the tenacity of the Pendragon spirit.

“Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to foist my family on you for a weekend like that,” Arthur tells him over the lunch he’s brought Merlin when Merlin claimed to be too busy to go out for the second day in a row. “Clearly you are now avoiding me.”

“You’re family’s fine,” Merlin tells him, eating a chip and avoiding Arthur’s eyes. He’s made himself miserable by avoiding Arthur, and now he’s paying for it by seeing the hurt he’s inflicted.

“But you _are_ avoiding me,” Arthur says. When Merlin doesn’t reply, Arthur puts his hand out and lays it on Merlin’s arm. “Merlin, look at me.” Merlin does, though reluctantly because he’s a coward. “If you really don’t want to continue this, you only have to tell me. I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll live-- somehow.” Arthur quirks his lips.

Merlin thinks about never seeing Arthur again. Never getting to hear his posh voice, kiss his pouty lips, or just be with him.

“I don’t want to end things,” Merlin says truthfully, and Arthur visibly sags in relief.

“Thank God,” his smile is large and brightens Merlin’s heart.

“I’m just…scared, Arthur. You scare me.” He’s closed his shop for lunch, and they sit across from one another in the back room, eating the chips and sandwiches Arthur’s brought from a local deli.

“I do?” Arthur asks, surprised. “But how? I mean, I can see how Father might scare you, but me?” He presses his fingers to his chest.

Merlin toys with his paper napkin. “It’s just…you make me feel things. Powerful things. I think I could really, really like you, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” Merlin licks his lips, determined to be completely honest. “And besides that, you also make me want things…” he pauses, locks eyes with Arthur, determined to be honest. “in bed. It’s hard to explain.”

Arthur swallows. “I…see.” He looks down, color rising to his face. “Merlin, I told you…I’m the shy one. It’s just you that makes me kind of crazy.” He glances over at the massage table as though he can’t help himself before quickly glancing away again.

Merlin suddenlly wants to smile but keeps it back. “Would you like a massage, Arthur?”

“What? No.”

“You promised you’d let me give you one.”

Arthur straightens up in the chair. “I didn’t promise. I said I would. Not the same thing at all. Here, have the rest of my chips, you’re too thin.” He pushes them toward Merlin.

“Don’t change the subject,” Merlin laughs. “What day are you flying to Paris for three weeks? You’ll want your massage before then.”

Arthur swallows. “Friday.”

“Okay, then. Day after tomorrow, I’ll expect you here. Seven o’clock. You have an appointment, so don’t be late.”

“An appointment?” Arthur raises a brow, and Merlin nods.

“There’s a fee if you don’t show.”

Arthur looks nervous. Merlin finds that very endearing, and so far from the rich, powerful man he spent the weekend with, he’s momentarily confused. But he knows that somehow the two personas fuse together, and he only needs to really get to know Arthur to see it happen. And he believes Arthur is worth the effort to do that.

 

~~~~

“I don’t think I can make that appointment,” Arthur calls to say the following evening. “I have so much packing to do.”

“You’re backing out?” Merlin asks.

“No! Not at all. I just have a lot of packing.”

“Arthur.  The appointment is after hours. No one will be there except for the two of us. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Arthur makes a sound deep in his throat. “I _know_ that, Merlin,” he scoffs.

“Besides, I never set aside a special time for clients like I’m doing for you. You can’t disappoint me,” Merlin has lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “If you don’t come, I won’t see you before your trip.”

“Now, that’s not fair!” Arthur objects indignantly.

“Perhaps not, but it’s the way it is. I hope to see you at seven.” Merlin hangs up, grinning from ear to ear.

The next evening, Merlin showers after his last appointment of the day, hoping upon hope that Arthur will not stand him up. He lights candles in the massage room, puts on some soothing music, and dresses in a bathrobe. Arthur is only late enough to make Merlin begin to pace and regret his words about not seeing Arthur before his trip.  (Approximately five minutes.) When Merlin lets him in the door, Arthur runs his eyes over Merlin in his robe, bare legs and feet.

“I hope this isn’t the way you dress for every massage,” he says appreciatively.

“I assure you, it’s not,” Merlin replies as he re-locks the door to his shop. He can see that Arthur is freshly showered, his hair still damp. “Did you think about standing me up?”

“No. Just nervous.”

Merlin pulls Arthur close and kisses him sweetly on the mouth. “No need,” he tells him, running his hand over Arthur’s jaw. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.” He taps an extra kiss on Arthur’s impossibly aristocratic nose and leads him into the next room.

“Wow,” Arthur says eyeing the candles, “Again, I hope I’m getting special treatment.”

“You are. Now, undress behind the screen, lie face down on the table with this towel over you, and I’ll be back in shortly.” Merlin leaves the room before Arthur can protest.

Merlin gives Arthur extra time to get situated before returning with a bottle of unscented massage oil.  Arthur lies on the table, but when Merlin enters, he rises to his elbow, his face dubious.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I’ll gladly pay the cancellation fee, Merlin. How much is it?” Arthur appears decidedly out of his comfort zone.

“Three thousand dollars,” Merlin replies easily.

“What? But, that’s ridiculous!”

“Lie down, Arthur, you’re going to enjoy this.” Merlin gently pushes on Arthur’s shoulder until he’s lying flat again, his face on the cushioned face rest. Merlin pours some oil onto his hands and begins rubbing Arthur’s shoulders, paying careful attention to each of the tendons in his neck. He’s carefully chosen the music for both relaxation and sensuality, and he decides to talk while he massages until he feels the tension leave Arthur’s body.

“I don’t normally turn down the lights and use candles,” he informs Arthur. “This is all for you. And I usually ask my clients to choose what scent of oil they’d like, but I chose unscented because I want to smell only you.”

Merlin runs his hands over the broad expanse of Arthur’s back, which is tanned and hard under Merlin’s fingers. His hands move farther down to the dip of Arthur’s spine, and Merlin pushes in with his thumbs, eliciting a quiet groan from Arthur. The rise of Arthur’s arse underneath the towel is a temptation that makes Merlin increasingly hard; Arthur looks fantastic laid out on Merlin’s table, and he feels even more fantastic under Merlin’s oily fingertips.

Merlin spends a long time working on Arthur’s back before moving down his arms, spending long moments on Arthur’s hands and fingers before roaming up again. By this time, Arthur has truly relaxed, and Merlin has stopped his inane chatter.

Merlin’s incredibly turned on. He hasn’t touched Arthur’s body intimately in days. The last night spent in Jim’s Beard when he’d gotten a little freaked out, he’d told Arthur he was exhausted and gone straight to bed after the bonfire. Now, looking at Arthur’s prone form at his mercy, Merlin wants nothing more than to mount him right there on the table and sink deeply into him. He has a precise vision of the way his cock would look touching that arse, his fingers spreading the cheeks to make way for its entry into the small, puckered hole Merlin knows is concealed there. However, he realizes that doing such a thing when he’s just gained Arthur’s trust in massage wouldn’t exactly be the best idea in the world.

So with regret, Merlin skips over Arthur’s covered bum and begins massaging down Arthur’s left leg, enjoying the feel of the oil mixing in the blond hairs covering his well-muscled thigh.

Just as Merlin finishes with the right leg, Arthur surprises him by reaching down and pulling off the towel himself. Mouth dry and breath caught in his throat, Merlin stares a moment at the apple cheeks in front of him before shakily applying more oil to the palms of his hands, barely able to hold onto the slippery bottle as he does so. He rubs them together, and with only the slightest hesitation, begins to knead the twin, pale globes displayed before him.

If asked hand to bible, Merlin would swear his mouth waters at the contact. His thumbs skim from the crack outward, barely pulling it open to reveal the dark secrets within, and Merlin’s cock throbs, obscenely tenting the robe he wears. When Arthur moans, Merlin echoes in reply, moving his hands down to lift Arthur’s arse from beneath, watching it slide from his palms and drop, shaking just a little as it falls into place.

He wants to face-plant between those perfect arse cheeks and never come up for air.

Arthur lifts his arse. “Merlin…my cock is killing me,” he groans. “You need a hole in the table for it as well as my face!”

Merlin chuckles and slaps Arthurs butt, telling him to roll over. “Just take a look at what you’ve done to me!”

Arthur eyes Merlin’s sizeable erection, licking his lips. “I can take care of that.”

“No, I’m not finished with you,” Merlin says a bit hoarsely, pushing Arthur back down on the table. Arthur’s prick is stiff and red, and Merlin studiously ignores it as he oils up his hands again and massages Arthur’s front side as efficiently as he did the back. Arthur alternates between closing his eyes, and watching Merlin’s every move, his fingers occasionally brushing across Merlin’s groin as he passes him.

“Oi, cut that out!” Merlin gasps the second time it happens, and Arthur chuckles wickedly. Finally, after discovering that Arthur is not ticklish on the bottoms of his feet but does enjoy a good foot rub, Merlin concentrates his attention on Arthur’s leaking phallus, pulling and twisting it with oily hands until Arthur arches and keens, begging Merlin for release as he digs his fingers into the leather padding of the table. Merlin leans down and kisses Arthur’s panting mouth, and before he knows what’s happening, Arthur pulls open Merlin’s robe and that mouth is on Merlin’s aching cock, suckling it greedily.

Merlin bends his knees a bit, or, rather, they buckle, watching Arthur’s cheek bulge with the length of him, and then Arthur’s cumming in Merlin’s hand and Arthur’s making animalistic noises around Merlin’s cock that-- _fuck_ have Merlin cumming in Arthur’s mouth and all over Arthur’s orgasm-addled face.

“Fuck me, I could get used to massages,” Arthur sighs moments later, his body a replete, nude, puddle on the table. Merlin has sunk to the floor and answers from there.

“Don’t expect them to be quite as involved as this one was.”

“No?” Arthur asks innocently. “That’s too bad. I rather enjoyed it.”

When Arthur recovers enough to sit up, he looks at Merlin sprawled out on the rug, robe open.

“You look very inviting like that,” he says with a fond smile.

“You could come down here and ravish me,” Merlin invites.

“I’d very much like that, but then again, I’m not sure if we want our first time to be the night before I leave for three weeks,” Arthur says seriously.

Merlin gets to his feet and stands in the open V of Arthur’s legs. He shrugs off the robe and leans in to kiss Arthur’s mouth softly. “You may have a point there. But there are other things we can do, yeah?” he says against Arthur’s  soft lips before swiping his tongue into Arthur’s warm mouth and pressing his nude body closer, loving the feel of the oil sliding between them.

Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin, pulling him closer, and he links his feet behind Merlin’s knees as they hungrily explore one another’s mouths. Merlin’s hands slide over the expanse of Arthur’s slick, broad back, and Merlin gasps when he feels Arthur take hold of his arse, fingers moving to dance inside the crack.

Their tongues slide wetly against one another, and Arthur scoots closer to the edge of the table so that their groins touch. Neither of them is hard, having just found release, but desire pools in Merlin’s belly all the same. Holding Arthur so intimately, bare skin pressed together, feels absolutely amazing, and Merlin wants to stay like this forever. He wishes fervently that Arthur wasn’t leaving the next morning. He barely knows this man but somehow doesn’t know how he ever existed without him. It’s crazy, he knows, but it’s real.

Merlin brings his hand around and brushes his thumb over Arthur’s nipple. Arthur grunts into Merlin’s mouth, then sucks Merlin’s bottom lip, tonguing it until Merlin thrusts his hips at him eagerly. Arthur moves his mouth to Merlin’s neck, breathing him in before running his tongue over Merlin’s skin.

Arthur moves on to Merlin’s collar bone, nipping at it with his teeth and then lapping with his tongue, edging downward toward the crease where Merlin’s arm meets his shoulder. Arthur pushes his tongue in the crevice there, wiggling it in until Merlin moves and allows Arthur full access to his armpit which he mouths greedily, making Merlin moan.

“When I get back,” Arthur promises between kisses to all the sensitive skin under his arm, “I’m going to lay you out on my bed and lick you all over. Every bit of yo

Merlin sucks in a breath, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Arthur’s lips and tongue on him.

“You are a beautiful, beautiful man,” Arthur tells him before taking Merlin’s nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Merlin cries out, thrusting up against Arthur’s groin again, his prick filling again. He digs his fingers into Arthur’s hair at the back of his head.

“Fuck,” he says. “Arthur. Just. Fuck.”

~~~~

The first few days that Arthur’s gone, Merlin works, has drinks with Gwaine and Will, and gets by all right. But as the weekend approaches, he begins to look for a flash of blond hair at every turn. Arthur told him before he left that he’d have precious little time for phone calls, but that he’d text him regularly. And that he does.

His messages progress from _I miss you_ and _these meetings are never-ending, somebody shoot me now_   to _God, Merlin, what I’d give just for a whiff of your neck right now, I’ve got such a fucking boner_ in the span of two days.  And then, on Friday afternoon, _I’m in the longest meeting EVER. Fuck, I miss you!_ and ten minutes later, _tell me you miss me too or I’m throwing myself off the Eiffel Tower_.

 _Of course I miss you, you prat_ , Merlin texts back. _I’m trying not to interrupt your meeting_.

Arthur: _I have my mobile on silent. I’m withering away without you. Paris is shite_.

Merlin: _??? Clearly you are crazy!_

Arthur: _Crazy for you, pixie._

Merlin has taken a long lunch at home, and he suddenly gets an idea. Whipping off his shirt, he leans against the door, raises his arm casually above his head, tries to look sexy, and takes a pic.  He has to take two more until he gets the look he’s trying to achieve, and then sends it to Arthur.

He finishes his sandwich before Arthur replies, and it isn’t with a text message. Merlin’s mobile rings.

“Holy shit, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice sounds wrecked. “I had to leave the meeting and go to the men’s!”

“Um. Sorry?” Merlin replies, cock rising in interest at the rough, sex-laden undertones in Arthur’s voice .

“God, what you do to me,” Arthur rasps. “I’ve got my hand around my cock right now. Good thing no one’s in here.”

Merlin sucks in a breath. Arthur went for a wank, and all because of a shirtless picture of Merlin? He listens to Arthur’s panting on the other end of the line. “Fuck, Arthur…”

“That’s right…fuck…that’s what I want to do to you. Merlin, if you were here right now…ahh…ahhh!” Arthur drops the phone, and Merlin’s mouth falls open. He reaches down and rubs at his own cock, now rigid in his pants before pressing *speaker* and setting his mobile on the table. Hands shaking, he opens his pants and begins vigorously moving his hand over his erection.

Over the course of the next week, Arthur keeps texting Merlin.

 _Wanked looking at that pic last night in my hotel room_ , one says. Merlin is in line at the grocery store when he reads it, and immediately gets hard. He has to press himself up against the grocery cart until he gets control of himself.

Merlin: _Stop making me hard in public!_

Arthur:   _I want to bury my face in your groin._

Merlin looks about, embarrassed, as if the people around him are reading over his shoulder. He can so vividly imagine Arthur on his knees in front of him, his gorgeous nose nuzzled beneath Merlin’s balls. He wriggles.

Merlin: _I’m putting my phone away before I come in my pants in Sainsbury’s_.

He gets through the line and is less embarrassingly bulging by the time he takes his groceries outside.  He doesn’t look at his mobile again until he’s home, and boy is he glad of that when he sees what Arthur’s sent him.

Merlin’s not sure how Arthur’s managed it, but somehow he’s propped his own mobile with the picture of Merlin opened on the screen next to Arthur’s extremely stiff cock. There’s another picture after it, and this one makes Merlin choke on his own spit. It shows the mobile with Merlin’s picture on it lying flat, spurts of white spunk dripping off Arthur’s sexy-as-hell dick onto Merlin’s image.

Merlin flops down on the couch and digs himself out of his pants, pulling frantically until his release pours over his hand.

 _One more week,_ he tells himself.                                                                                             

~~~~

“He must have had two cell phones to be able to do that,” Gwaine says admiringly  the following night at the pub near his place.

Merlin agrees, taking a sip from his pint, still annoyed at Gwaine for snooping into his phone.

“Hot, I must say.”

Merlin nods. “Yeah.” His mouth is suddenly dry remembering just how hot, so he takes another sip.

“You comfortable in this relationship? Arthur’s quite the toff.” Gwaine inquires, moving the cocktail napkin about on the table with his forefinger.

“You don’t like him?” Merlin frowns.

“Would it matter to you if I don’t?” Gwaine asks, leaning back in his chair.

Merlin shrugs, uncertain. In the past it’s always mattered that his friends approve of who he’s seeing, but he can’t imagine dumping Arthur no matter what Gwaine or the others have to say about him. “No, but I’d be surprised. You seemed to like him.”

“I do.” Gwaine assures his friend, leaning forward and ruffling Merlin’s hair until it’s a mess. “I just wanted to see what you would say. You seem to really like this bloke. I haven’t seen you this into a guy in a while. And he’s obviously into you, wanking on your picture like that.”

Merlin colors, reaching up to finger-comb his hair back into place. That was the last time he’d leave his mobile with Gwaine while Merlin went to the loo. “He’s got a nice cock, too,” Gwaine adds with a leer.

“Oi,” Merlin really turns red then.

The pictures Arthur sends Merlin after that are tame in comparison. There is one of Arthur pouting because Merlin won’t send another sexy shot of himself shirtless. There are a few others of Arthur in front of various famous landmarks that he gets random tourists to take of him. (In these he poses like male models do in clothes catalogs, which makes Merlin laugh.) Then there’s Merlin’s favorite that he looks at again and again over the course of the next week—the one of Arthur tucked into bed in his hotel room, all ready to go to sleep, pursing his lips to kiss Merlin goodnight.

Merlin has to admit he’s a real goner.  Yep, no doubt about it.

Merlin runs in the park sometimes when he can’t get to the gym. He finds himself doing it more often now that he’s hornier than hell and the object of his affections is two hundred miles away. He finds if he runs really hard for forty-five minutes or so, he can exhaust himself enough to get a decent night’s sleep, although he sometimes has to wank while looking at one of Arthur’s catalog poses first. He particularly fancies the one where Arthur’s propped his foot on a fountain and gazes longingly into the distance, his sports jacket slung over his shoulder.

He’s just about to turn toward home on Thursday night when he sees a familiar face.

“Nevin?” he says, approaching the man on the park bench. Nevin looks up from where he’s been watching a couple of dogs playing a ways off.

“Merlin! Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

Merlin smiles, wiping the sweat off his brow with the top of his sleeve. “Just taking a run before bed. Are you here alone?”

“Waiting for Uther to finish his shopping.” Nevin indicates the row of shops across the street. “I got tired. So have you heard about Arthur?”

“What about him?” Merlin asks. “I haven’t spoken with him since this morning.”

Nevin looks sheepish. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s going to have to stay in Paris for another week. He wasn’t happy about it at all. I’m sure he isn’t looking forward to telling you—knowing Arthur, he’s still trying to get out of it. He and his dad had a big row about it earlier.”

Merlin’s heart sinks. Another week? How is he going to manage it?

Nevin stands. “There’s Budge coming out of the bookstore; I’m going to go join him. Nice to see you again, Merlin.” He waves and jogs toward the street.

Merlin sighs and begins walking toward home, feeling deflated. As soon as he walks in the door, he gets his mobile out.

Merlin: _I know you have to stay. You can call me now._

He hits send and before he can chicken out, he toes off his shoes and slips out of his shorts. He takes a picture of the boner he’s developed on the walk home while remembering the massage he’d given Arthur and the way Arthur’s oiled-up flesh felt under his fingers. Under the picture he types: _What am I going to do with this for another week?_

After he sends the second text, Merlin puts his mobile on the bathroom counter and turns the shower on. He finishes stripping and gets under the spray, soaping up quickly, paying extra attention to his throbbing cock. His mobile rings, and he jumps out. Seeing Arthur’s name flash on the screen, he answers and puts it on speaker, the volume turned all the way up.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Arthur asks. “I almost walked in front of a lorry! And what’s that noise?”

“I’m in the shower,” Merlin says loud enough for Arthur to hear him over the water as he steps back under the spray. “I’ve just come back from a run, where I saw Nevin in the park. He gave me the bad news.” Merlin puts shampoo in his palm and begins lathering up his hair.

“Yeah. I was kind of putting off telling you. I hoped it would all go away, but Father has another client he wants me to speak with.” Arthur pauses. “So…I guess you’re naked.”

Merlin laughs. “Yeah. That seems to work best when in the shower.”

“Wanker.”

“I’m about to be. You saw the state I’m in.” Merlin rinses his hair. “I was thinking about that massage I gave you and how I’d like to give you another.”

Arthur’s indrawn breath is clearly audible. “I’m picturing you standing in the shower…all wet and slick. I really, really wish I was there.”

Desire pools in Merlin’s belly, and he grabs his prick. “I wish you were, too, Arthur.” He gives himself a soapy pull and groans.

“Merlin, shit…” There’s some background noise and the sound of a door closing. “I’m putting you on speaker and taking off my clothes.”

“I hope you’re in your hotel room,” Merlin chuckles, hearing a belt hit the floor.

“In my hotel room, and now…” Merlin hears a bit of struggling on Arthur’s end, “naked as the day I was born,” Arthur’s voice is a bit strangled. “Fuck, tell me what you’re doing, and don’t leave anything out.”

Merlin has the shower curtain open and can see himself in the mirror—he looks flushed, wrecked in his desire for Arthur. He’s never had phone sex with anyone but Arthur, unless he counted that time with Will in seventh grade where they had a contest to see who could get off first, and he definitely _doesn’t_. He doesn’t know if he can make this sexy for Arthur. His cock wilts a bit under the pressure.

“Merlin?” Arthur says a bit impatiently.

Merlin reaches up to change the spray on his shower nozzle to something a bit lighter, and clears his throat. “I-I’m standing in the shower stall. Er, naked.” He’s afraid Arthur’s going to laugh at that. _Good God, couldn’t he have thought of better terminology?_ Merlin suddenly wishes for a thesaurus.

But he can hear Arthur breathing over the speaker phone. Panting, really, and when he speaks, his voice is raspy with need.

“Go on.”

Merlin gives himself a stroke, reaches down to fondle his balls. He tells Arthur this. “My nuts get so tight when I think of you, Arthur. God…ever since that massage, I can hardly get through my day professionally. I just want it to be you under my hands. I think about climbing up on that table and spreading your cheeks…”

Now this is easy. Merlin can talk about Arthur all day long, and judging by the moaning on Arthur’s end, it seems to be doing things to him as well. “I keep seeing your arse all slicked with oil, and I just want to…” Merlin gives himself several long, delicious pulls.

He’s on the edge, his eyes closed, his head tilted against the shower stall. He can see Arthur on that table, delicious, oily bum so pliant under Merlin’s hands.

“Want …to?” Arthur moans.

Merlin groans and tells him, his voice shaking. “Want to fuck you, Arthur, I want to fuck you. Stick my oiled-up, stiff cock into your puckered hole and fuck you until you pass out on my massage table!” With a shout, Merlin cums, spunk spurting a good foot across the shower tiles. An unearthly noise out of Arthur signals his release over the speaker, and Merlin’s legs give out as he slides to the floor of the shower, palm hitting the handle to turn off the water as he goes.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Arthur Pendragon,” he swears fervently from his soggy sprawl, a shampoo bottle wedged between his shoulder blades.

~~~~

Merlin’s never been so hyped up as he is that week. He can’t concentrate on work; having naked people spread out before him is pure torture, particularly the male ones. And he doesn’t see even one who comes close to being as temptingly perfect as Arthur. He finally wipes his schedule for the rest of the week, claiming to be ill, something he has never, ever done in his life. He spends his time cleaning and organizing his flat and trying not to think about sex.

“I expected you to be all red-nosed and miserable,” Gwaine says mid-week when he arrives home with soup and a box of tissues. “Mrs. Fernandez said you canceled her monthly appointment due to the flu.”

“I’m faking,” Merlin tells him. “Not that I really need to, since I’m my own boss, but I’d feel a bit of a dick saying I just wanted to cancel, or the real truth—I had to cancel because I can’t keep the horny thoughts out of my head.” He groans, throwing himself down on the sofa. “Gwaine, this is killing me! Arthur and I never got to the fucking, and I want to fuck him soooo bad! You just don’t know. And I want him to fuck me. I want us to fuck each other—simultaneously! Shit! Why did he have to stay in Paris another week?”

Having put the soup in the kitchen, Gwaine comes to sit beside Merlin. “Only a few more days, right?”

Merlin nods miserably. “Saturday.”

“I’ve never seen you like this, mate. You’re scaring me.”

Merlin gives him a look. “Oh, like you’ve never been horny out of your mind. Remember when Elena went to Puerto Rico with her mother for a month?”

Gwaine grimaces. “Don’t remind me.  But that’s me, Merlin, and you’re…well, you. More controlled.”

“Arthur does things to me.” Merlin leans his head on the back of the sofa. “I’ve never felt this way before. I want to put my tongue in every crevice he’s got. Suck everything…bite everything. _Fuck_ everything!”

When Merlin turns to look at his friend, Gwaine’s eyes are wide, and his mouth is open. “I had this dream last night,” Merlin continues, undeterred by Gwaine’s deer-in-the-headlights look. “I was sucking on Arthur’s balls. They were so soft, the skin papery thin on my tongue. I came in my pants. A wet dream, Gwaine! I haven’t had one of those since I was thirteen!”

Gwaine makes a garbled noise in his throat. “I’ve gotta go, mate.” He jumps up and starts for the door.

“But…why?” Merlin sits up. “You’ve just got home!”

“All this talk of ball-sucking is making me uncomfortably aroused next to my best mate. I think I’ll go crash Elena’s girls-night-out.”

And then he’s gone.

The next day, Merlin texts Arthur while watching inane cartoons and sorting through old magazines.

Merlin: _You’ve ruined me. I can’t even work anymore. I stay at home all day. Just me and my blue balls._

Arthur: _??? You’re not working?_

Merlin: _Took half the week off. My flat has never been so clean. Just found a magazine from 2003. Gwaine’s avoiding coming home._

Arthur: _Shameful. I’ll be there Saturday. Promise. Nothing could make me stay longer this time._

Merlin: _Looking forward to it. You don’t know how much. Dreaming about you even._

Arthur: _Got a lunch meeting, but text me your dream._

Merlin: _Better wait until you’re in private._

Arthur: _That kind of dream, eh? Can’t wait._

Merlin ends up emailing Arthur instead with a long, detailed description of the dream. It takes him the better part of the day to get it just right, because the dream had been so vividly erotic and real that Merlin can still feel Arthur’s furry sac on his tongue. He texts Arthur that he’s sent it in an email and goes out to run errands.

Merlin doesn’t hear from Arthur all day, which isn’t unusual since Arthur’s days in Paris are packed with meetings. Occasionally he’ll get a picture of something Arthur thinks is funny, such as a lady’s hat or the bidet in the men’s room. (Arthur’s sense of humor is pretty bizarre, just like Merlin’s, which thrills Merlin. He laughs and laughs at the bidet picture, and he isn’t even sure why—just the idea of water squirting men’s arses, he supposes. None of his other friends would find it even remotely funny.) But this day is one of the quiet ones, so Merlin contents himself with pulling loose change out of his couch cushions and vacuuming up the dust bunnies.

It’s late and Merlin’s ready for bed when there’s a pounding at his door that sends his heart racing.

When Merlin looks through the peep hole, he really thinks he’s dreaming for a moment. But he jerks the door open all the same, only to realize the chain’s still on. It almost kills him to have to close it again in order to slide the lock off. He opens it again, blinking owlishly.

“Arthur?” he asks incredulously just before the other man plows into him with a force that knocks him into the wall behind him, and then Arthur’s delicious, pink, pouty, wet mouth is on Merlin’s, and Merlin opens his, welcoming the hot, questing tongue, his leg automatically moving up Arthur’s body to lock around him, and it’s _on_.

“I can’t stop thinking of you, you pixie,” Arthur breathes into Merlin’s mouth. Electricity zips through Merlin’s veins, making him weak. He can’t believe Arthur’s really there with him, solid under his questing fingertips.

“That email slaughtered me.” Arthur takes Merlin’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to look at him. “I’ve had my own dream, over and over again. You want to know what it is?”

Merlin swallows, nods his head. Arthur leans his forehead against Merlin’s, closes his eyes, takes a shaking breath.

“God,” he says before taking a step back. “Take your shirt off, please,” he tells Merlin.

Merlin doesn’t hesitate. He’d do anything Arthur tells him to do. His hands tremble as he throws the shirt to the floor.

“Now lift your arms, yes, like that. Keep them there.” Arthur strips off his suit coat and tosses it aside, tugging at his tie as he survey’s Merlin, who stands against the wall of his apartment, hands high above his head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Arthur tells him, voice breaking just a little. He reaches out and strokes Merlin’s raised arm down to where dark hairs grow underneath it.

“I’ve been dreaming…” Arthur says, eyes glued there for a moment before he raises them to meet Merlin’s. “I—“ he licks his lips.

“Tell me,” Merlin begs, a shiver running through him, and Arthur’s eyes ignite into a deeper blue. A long, gentle finger softly strokes the hair growing beneath Merlin’s arm. When Arthur speaks, his voice is hoarse with need.

“I dream that I’m fucking your armpit,” Arthur tells him, eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

The words shoot straight to Merlin’s groin, and he leans his head back and moans, closing his eyes. God, it’s weird and kinky, and _he wants it_. So, so much.

“Do it,” he whispers.

Arthur’s breathing accelerates, and he leans in and nuzzles Merlin under the arm, planting dozens of soft kisses there before he steps back and begins fumbling with his belt buckle, fingers clumsy. Merlin pushes Arthur’s hands away and unbuckles it himself, thrilling at the impatient whimpers that escape Arthur’s mouth. Arthur drops his pants, and Merlin strokes Arthur through his navy boxer briefs before sliding his fingers beneath the waist band and tugging them down to reveal his swollen, aching cock. Arthur steps out of them, and Merlin slides down the wall to sit on the floor at Arthur’s feet.

Arthur immediately drops to his knees beside Merlin, leaning over to kiss him, invading his mouth with his tongue until Merlin’s breathless. Eagerly, Merlin reaches over and unbuttons Arthur’s dress shirt before dipping his head down to lick at Arthur’s pink sac. It’s furry and soft, just like in his dream, and he takes as much of it in his mouth as he can as Arthur’s fingers creep into Merlin’s hair. “Oh, fuck, Merlin…” Arthur groans as Merlin laps at him with his tongue.

After several moments of this, Merlin lets Arthur’s balls slip out of his mouth and sits back up, running his fingers over Arthur’s erect cock. He raises his eyes to Arthur, who’s looking at him with so much desire, Merlin feels powerful. He lifts his arm just a little. “Come on,” he invites challengingly, “do it.”

Arthur moves forward on his knees until the soft tip of his cock nudges at the crevice between Merlin’s arm and torso. Arthur throws his head back, drawing air in through his teeth in pleasure as he slips inside and Merlin gently closes his arm around Arthur’s length.

“Holy fuck, it’s so warm,” Arthur says huskily, and y-your hair…it’s so silky against my dick.” He begins to move.

Arthur continues pumping, and Merlin can’t believe how hard his own cock is just from feeling Arthur’s soft steel sliding in and out of his armpit. Arthur braces himself with a hand against the wall, eyes riveted to the sight of his dick disappearing beneath Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin shifts a little until the head of Arthur’s cock hits him square in the armpit, and Arthur lets out a moan and speeds up his thrusting. Merlin reaches to push his pyjama pants down and away and grab hold of his own length, pulling at it in rhythm with Arthur’s movements.

“So good, Merlin, so good…” Arthur pants, and Merlin runs lustful eyes over Arthur’s tense muscles working as he stoops to fuck Merlin under the arm. After several more thrusts, Arthur gasps and lifts Merlin’s arm up, holding it there as he shoots ropes of cum all underneath it. As the warm spunk hits the sensitive skin of his armpit, Merlin loses control and ejaculates, spurting his release onto his hand and thighs.

“Holy shit,” Arthur sinks down, laying his head on Merlin’s lap, heedless of the mess. “That was phenomenal. God, what you do to me.” He nuzzles Merlin’s flat belly.

Merlin is boneless, his head resting against the wall. The floor is hard, and his sweaty arse is stuck to it. Arthur’s exhalations tickle Merlin’s stomach, and Arthur’s cheek is warm against Merlin’s sensitive groin.

Merlin thinks he never wants to move from this spot.

Sounds of Gwaine’s arrival change Merlin’s mind, and he and Arthur scramble up and make a quick escape to Merlin’s room, shutting the door behind them.

“My pants are in the hallway,” Arthur says, leaning against the door and looking extremely hot wearing only an open Oxford shirt, a skewed red tie, and socks.

“God, I just want to fuck you senseless,” Merlin growls, advancing on him. Arthur welcomes him into his arms, wrapping them around Merlin and pulling him close, naked skin against naked skin. Merlin kisses Arthur’s neck, breathing him in. He fits his thigh between Arthur’s legs, nudging at him.

“How is it you’re here? I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, but I didn’t expect you until Saturday.”

“Fuck Paris,” Arthur states petulantly just before sticking his hot tongue into Merlin’s ear. Merlin gasps and then gasps again when he feels Arthur’s fingers parting the cheeks of his arse. Merlin swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I mean it, Arthur…I want to fuck you.” He pulls back and Arthur whimpers at the loss of contact. Merlin looks Arthur in the eye. “Is that okay? We’ve never really discussed it. The top and bottom stuff.” Merlin can hear Gwaine clomping around the flat. All of Merlin’s and Arthur’s clothes are in the hallway, and he’s sure when Gwaine discovers them he’ll either leave or retreat to his room. Merlin runs his thumb over the divots in Arthur’s abs.

Arthur takes a breath, and for a minute Merlin’s afraid Arthur will deny him. Merlin bites his bottom lip anxiously.

“I want you to fuck me, Merlin,” Arthur finally says, his eyes soft. “I think about it a lot, especially after what you said when you got off in the shower. To be honest, I don’t usually bottom. Okay, I’ve never bottomed.” He pulls Merlin closer. “But ever since you mentioned it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “Really?” His head spins. Having Arthur’s arse is a dream come true; having Arthur’s _virgin_ arse is beyond Merlin’s wildest dreams.

Arthur nods, looking a bit vulnerable. “Really.”

“Okay, then.” Merlin takes his hand. “We aren’t going to jump into anything. It’s going to be slow and good, Arthur. There are so many things I want to do to you…with you. So why don’t we go over to the bed and play around a bit, yeah?”

Arthur nods, leans in for a kiss. The kiss turns into more of a snog, neither man willing to let the other go, greedy tongues dueling until Merlin is panting and half-hard again. He nudges Arthur toward the bed without breaking their contact.

Before he settles beside Arthur, Merlin nabs the bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. He thinks about telling Arthur to remove his shirt, but he really likes this half-dressed, debauched look. He lies down beside Arthur and reaches for him, kissing him again, reveling in the feel of Arthur’s agile tongue in his mouth. He suckles on it, simultaneously flipping open the bottle of lubrication and wetting his fingers with it. He wraps his arms around Arthur, letting his oily hands slicken Arthur’s bare arse. Merlin squeezes and kneads the plump cheeks, all the while exchanging increasingly filthy kisses with the man lying half atop of him.

Eager grunts against his mouth urge Merlin on as he inserts a finger inside of Arthur, slowing stretching him. Arthur’s hand cups Merlin’s face as they continue to kiss, lips advancing and retreating over and over again, tongues teasing. Every time Merlin hits Arthur in the right spot, Arthur’s mouth goes slack for a moment, and he pants into Merlin’s mouth.

“That’s it,” Merlin croons, “gonna make you feel so good.” He inserts a second finger, and Arthur whimpers, burying his face into Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin’s high on getting Arthur off, the look and sound of him captivating.

“God, I want you so much,” Merlin tells him, adding a third finger into the enticing heat, pleasing Arthur by rhythmically moving inside and pressing down before gliding out, over and over again until Arthur is almost sobbing with the pleasure of it. Finally, when Arthur is fully stretched and nearly stupid with lust, Merlin withdraws, kissing Arthur lightly on the mouth. “Gonna get a condom,” he tells him softly, but Arthur shakes his head, grasping Merlin by the upper arm.

“No, we’re clean,” he says, meeting Merlin’s eyes. “We’ve talked about it. Wanna feel you inside me, Merlin. Please.” Arthur’s eyes are wide and blue, and Merlin can’t refuse him. Hell, he doesn’t want to refuse him; he doesn’t want anything between them either.

 He pours lube into his hands and slicks himself up before kneeling between Arthur’s legs, looking down at him until Arthur writhes under the scrutiny. Merlin bends to sprinkle kisses on Arthur’s muscled chest, the blond hairs there tickling his lips. He moves downward toward the flat plane of Arthur’s stomach. Arthur moans, reaching up to wrap shaking fingers around the rails of the headboard. Merlin then runs his tongue up to Arthur’s right nipple, stopping to nip at it with his teeth, and Arthur restlessly humps into the air.

“Merlin, _please,_ ” Arthur begs, but Merlin can’t help but tease his lover by leaning down again to nuzzle the hairs under Arthur’s right arm with his nose. Arthur’s been working all day and smells of sweat, pungent but not displeasing. His scent makes Merlin harder, and he gives the smooth, baby-fine skin of Arthur’s inner arm a wet kiss, eliciting a moan and another hip thrust from Arthur. Finally, Merlin rises and positions himself at Arthur’s opening between his spread legs. Grabbing a pillow, he slides it beneath Arthur’s hips, which are already straining upward in his eagerness for penetration.

“Merlin!” Arthur rasps, beside himself with need.

“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” Merlin whispers.

He can see Arthur’s on the edge, and determines to do something about it.

Merlin presses the tip of his cockhead to Arthur’s anus, slowly breaching the outer ring of muscle, and is mesmerized by the sight of Arthur’s cock as it immediately spurts a small stream of cum, as though a lever’s being released. The farther Merlin’s cock goes in, the more cum pours from Arthur’s stiff prick as Arthur keens, hands still gripping the headboard, and the sight of it sends chills up Merlin’s back and an electric tingle to his balls that has him shooting inside Arthur by the time he’s fully seated inside him, his entire body reeling with sensation.

“Well, that was an auspicious start,” he says dryly, collapsing onto his elbows and breathing heavily into Arthur’s ear.

 


	6. I Want Your Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between sex and then some more sex.

Arthur lets go of the headboard and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Yeah. We never manage to last very long when we're together, do we?” He turns his head and smiles at Merlin. “Sometimes I think I could cum just looking at you.”

Merlin ducks his head. “I can’t believe you ditched Paris for me,” he says, tracing Arthur’s lips with his finger. Arthur opens his mouth and nibbles on it.

“Believe it.”

Merlin starts to roll off Arthur, but Arthur holds him still with a hand to the small of Merlin’s back. “Don’t. I like the feel of you inside me.”

Merlin gives a small thrust inside the tight grip Arthur holds him in. “If I hadn’t already cum twice in the last forty-five minutes, I’d give it another go.”

Arthur’s grin is infectious. He squeezes Merlin with his knees.

“Hey, Arty!” Gwaine’s voice from the hall interrupts their moment. “Your mobile’s been going off for the last half hour!”

Merlin lowers his head to Arthur’s chest. “You think it’s your dad? He discovered you’re AWOL?”

Arthur kisses Merlin’s temple. “Maybe. I don’t care.”

Merlin gently eases out of Arthur and sits up. “I shouldn’t have told you about that dream.”

Arthur chuckles and moves off the bed. Merlin watches his arse as he goes to the door, opening it a crack. “Mind handing it through, mate?” Arthur asks Gwaine.

A minute later and Arthur’s listening to his messages, making grimacing faces and rolling his eyes.

Merlin laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll get us a snack, yeah?” He pulls on a pair of shorts and heads for the kitchen where Gwaine is paying a pizza delivery man at the door.

“Figured you two would be starved after all the exertion,” Gwaine winks at Merlin and sets the two boxes on the counter.

“You’re brilliant!” Merlin tells him, opening one up. “Oh…mushroom and olives.”

“I’m just relieved you’ve got somewhere to plug all that restless sexual energy,” Gwaine replies, selecting a piece from the other box and biting into it.  “I don’t have to be afraid of being mauled in my bed.”

“You wish, Gwaine,” Merlin retorts, moving to grab some bottles of water out of the refrigerator. “I’d have to be awfully hard up to want your skanky arse.”

“Oi!” Gwaine objects, flicking a piece of sausage at Merlin. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He tilts his head. “Tell me, if it were between me and Will, who would you pick?”

Merlin wipes sauce off his mouth with a napkin. “What do you mean? Some kind of sex or die scenario?”

“Yeah. Or end of the world and we’re all you’ve got.”

Merlin considers, chewing, while Gwaine’s expression becomes more and more disbelieving. “I can’t believe you even have to think about this! You would take Will’s scrawny bum over my fine specimen? You’ve seen my arse, haven’t you?”

Arthur appears, wearing a pair of Merlin’s track pants. They are tight on him, and Merlin suddenly wants very much to get him alone again.

Arthur raises a brow. “Already looking for new territory to conquer?” he asks Merlin, selecting a slice out of the pizza box Gwaine indicates.

“Sex or die scenario. Gwaine or Will,” Merlin informs him.

“Will would be a terrible lay,” Gwaine scoffs. “I, on the other hand…”

Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes behind Gwaine’s back as Gwaine turns to pick up another slice from the box.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Arthur says, “there’s something about Will—that farmy look.”

Merlin almost chokes. _Farmy?_

“Like he could wrestle a goat to the ground with one hand or something,” Arthur continues, and the expression on Gwaine’s face is absolutely priceless. Merlin has to turn his face away so as not to crack up.

“Over _me_?” Gwaine says.

Arthur looks him over. “No offense, mate. I mean, you’re quite nice and all, but Will’s got that backwoods thing going on.”

Merlin is sure he’s going to laugh now. He bites his lip. Fortunately, Gwaine’s too worked up in his indignation to take notice.

“You’re a bit too polished,” Arthur continues. “Whereas Will looks like he could give a guy a good rut over the pig trough.”

Merlin loses it then, just imagining his belligerent, outspoken, _straight_ , only-just-barely-not-homophobic-due-to-the-grace-of-God-and-strong- friendshipfriend doing such a thing. He can’t stand it! He has to spit his mouthful of pizza into the sink so as not to choke on it.

Gwaine sputters.

“You two are having me on! I knew you couldn’t pick him over me, by God!”

“Gwaine, you are so vain!” Merlin says between bouts of chuckling while wiping his mouth. Arthur’s face is pink with amusement.

“You men,” Gwaine says, disgusted.

“You’re a man, too!” Arthur points out, and Gwaine shakes his head. “I’m calling my girlfriend.” He goes into the living room.

Arthur looks to Merlin and they start laughing again.

They end up back in bed, snuggled up together.

“Glad I’m not in a Paris hotel room tonight,” Arthur says, kissing the back of Merlin’s neck.

“Me, too,” Merlin replies. He could get used to having Arthur in bed with him.  Having Arthur’s body pressed up against his felt incredibly warm and comforting.

“Was your father awfully angry?” Merlin asks Arthur, his voice sounding loud in the dark, quiet flat. Gwaine had left for Elena’s a while ago, saying he was going where he and his arse would be properly appreciated.

“He was more angry that I ditched Percy,” Arthur says, his breath tickling Merlin’s ear.

Merlin frowns. “Why does he think you need a bodyguard? Is your life really in danger? Is the perfume industry that competitive?”

“Father has a lot of money and a lot of enemies,” Arthur says, sounding more sleepy than anything else. “It’s always been that way. He’s just a big mother hen.” He pulls Merlin closer to him. After a moment, Arthur’s breathing evens out and his body relaxes. Merlin listens to him for what seems like a long time, choosing to prolong this moment rather than waste it in sleep.

He doesn’t recall ever feeling so comfortable with a boyfriend before. Arthur’s so easy to be with, and Merlin finds himself thinking of him all the time. He’s definitely never had this insatiable hunger for anyone before. If his body would allow him, Merlin would fuck Arthur 24/7. He remembers that when he dated Gilly, he was perfectly content with having sex only once or twice a week. And he never wanted to bottom for Gilly, but Merlin finds himself spending more and more time thinking about what it would be like to have Arthur inside him. Right then, with Arthur’s groin pushed up against Merlin’s arse, he could well imagine Arthur fucking him that way—on their sides, Arthur’s fat cock buried deep within him. Thinking about it brings new desire, but Merlin tamps it down. He tightens his hold on Arthur’s hand, which rests on Merlin’s stomach, and reminds himself that it wasn’t too long ago that he was determined to slow things down between them.

It just seems that no matter what Merlin deems right, when it comes to Arthur, he really can’t help himself.

~~~~

Merlin doesn’t sleep late, but when he awakens the next morning Arthur’s already up. When Merlin comes out of the bathroom, he finds Arthur in the living room with a cup of coffee. Merlin pours himself a cup and joins him, perching on the arm of the couch.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks Arthur, his eyes running over his tussled appearance.

“Very,” Arthur smiles at him. “I really have quite a bit of work to do. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t, unless my body just noticed that it had lost its wrap-around blanket and protested.”

“You’re cold natured, aren’t you,” Arthur says, and Merlin nods.

“And you’re like a little stove heating me up,” he tells Arthur. “What time do you have to leave? I can whip us up some breakfast.”

“In about an hour. Don’t go to any trouble; I don’t usually eat much in the mornings.”

Merlin heads for the kitchen and puts on some eggs and toast while Arthur goes to take a shower.

When Arthur comes back to the kitchen, he wraps his arms around Merlin from the back.

“Mmm,” Merlin approves.

“Last night was…really, really good,” Arthur breathes into Merlin’s neck.

“I agree,” Merlin smiles, taking the pan off the stove and leaning back into Arthur’s embrace. “I keep thinking about fucking you,” he tells Arthur. “It was so erotic…the way you came when I pushed into you.”

He feels Arthur’s shy smile against the nape of his neck. “It felt incredible,” Arthur says. “I was so ready.”

“Me, too,” Merlin sighs, turning in Arthur’s arms and wrapping himself around him. “I can’t wait until you get inside of me.” He kisses Arthur, long and sweet. “Our breakfast is going to get cold,” he finally says, and they reluctantly pull apart.

“I’m going to have to head back to mine,” Arthur says while they eat. “I don’t think my suit can be salvaged enough to go straight to the office.” He looks ruefully down at his wrinkled shirt and tie.

Merlin nods. “I may call and see if I can schedule a few appointments for this afternoon.” He looks at Arthur from under his lashes. “Maybe you should stop by for a good rub down this evening.”

Arthur smiles. “Maybe I will.” He finishes his coffee and kisses Merlin goodbye. Merlin lingers at the door, watching Arthur get onto the lift like Merlin’s a mooning school girl.

This is how Merlin comes to be straddling Arthur’s oil-slicked body late that evening, Arthur buried deep within him, his feet planted on Merlin’s massage table as he meets Merlin’s downward thrusts with upward jerks of his hips. Merlin barely keeps it together, the sensations coursing through him so electrifying they threaten to rip him apart. He’s making animalistic grunting noises that he knows he’s never made during sex before, and when he looks down at Arthur, Arthur looks so fucking gorgeous Merlin whines, grasping Arthur’s hands and holding on while Arthur screws him relentlessly.

 _Finally_ their bodies are cooperating and giving them more than a few minutes to enjoy each other, allowing them to extend their pleasure for so long that both have a light sheen of sweat covering their skin and Merlin’s thigh muscles are beginning to scream. The feel of Arthur’s nuts spanking Merlin’s arse on every down stroke is about to undo him, though, along with the way Arthur’s breath begins to hitch and his eyes roll back in his head as Merlin gyrates his pelvis.

“M-Merlin…” Arthur gasps before jerking upward, and Merlin squeezes Arthur’s hands and the muscles of his own arse as his climax hits, his back arching in pleasure.

“Holy shit,” Arthur breathes, his eyes pinned on Merlin as they slowly recover.

They wind up eating chips and drinking warm cola, snuggled up together on the couch in the lobby until it gets so late they have to go home.


	7. Is there Such a Thing as too Good?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Merlin his worst enemy?

 

“What is up with you?” Will demands after Merlin trips and falls for the third time during their game of one-on-one. “You’re going to have bruises all over your knees—although maybe the rug burn will hide them.”

Merlin gives Will a deadly look from under his sweaty fringe. “I do not have rug burn, thank you very much.”

“Oh, pardon me. Arthur too posh to screw you on the floor? Wait, I’m sure he always has a couple of velvet pillows handy.” Will makes a face.

Merlin heaves himself to his feet. “I guess I’m not much in the mood for basketball,” he says, heading for the locker room, limping a bit as he goes. He hears Will toss the ball in the bin, and then he’s beside Merlin.

“Give it up, Merls. I know something’s eating at you, and I won’t let up until you tell me.”

“Everything’s great,” Merlin shrugs, pushing his way into the locker room and selecting a clean towel. Will grunts, following suit.

Under the showers, Will continues to needle at Merlin.

“Is there trouble in paradise? It’s okay, you can tell me, Merlin, I promise I won’t be too hard on Poshpants.”

Merlin rinses his hair, running fingers through it to make sure he got out all the soap. “Shut up, Will,” he says just before filling his mouth with water and spurting it in his friend’s face.

“’Cause if he’s hurt you, I’ll give him a good kick in his pretty teeth,” Will continues, undaunted, as they dry off.

“He hasn’t hurt me. Everything’s fine! Would you leave off, please?” Merlin groans, exasperated, before heading for his locker and his clothes.

Will remains silent until they are dressed and on the street, then he quietly shoves Merlin into the pub down the street and orders them drinks.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?” Merlin asks, a little bewildered. Will just indicates a table with his head and they sit down.

After Merlin has a few sips, Will says, “Get mad if you want, mate, but we’re going to sit here until you tell me what’s niggling your arse. Besides Poshdragon’s dick, that is.”

Merlin rolls his eyes before rubbing them with his fingers. “Honestly, Will…”

Will clears his throat, giving him a look that says he doesn’t want to hear any more excuses.

“Merlin blows air out his mouth. “Okay, okay. I guess—well, I was just thinking that sometimes…shit.” Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Wills. You’re my best mate, no doubt about it, yeah? But there are times that I really wish I had a gay mate I could talk to.”

Will scrunches up his face. “A gay mate? But why would you need one? You’ve always been able to talk to me about things. I mean, I may prefer birds, but have I ever judged you on your preference?”

“No.” Merlin shakes his head emphatically. “You have not. But it’s sex related, and I know you aren’t comfortable hearing about that. I’m just a little confused, and I don’t have anyone to talk it out with except for Arthur, and obviously I can’t talk it out with him.”

Will slaps his hand on the table. “That’s rubbish. I can lend an ear no matter where you choose to stick your knob.”

Merlin can’t help but smile. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to form his thoughts. “Okay, I’ll give it a go, but I don’t think you’re going to relate. It’s not so much a gay thing, as …oh, fuck.” He takes a breath and meets his friend’s concerned gaze. “I’m really attracted to Arthur, yeah?” Will nods.

“Okay, and he’s great and all. So it’s not like there’s a problem there. But yet, there _is._ I mean, sometimes I’m so attracted to Arthur, it feels like a drug or something. I want him all the time, everywhere, anywhere! You know how it is when everything’s all new with someone?”

Will’s face goes a little soft, and he smiles, and Merlin slaps his hand on his forehead, unwilling to believe his stupidity. “Oh my God, Will, you’ve been seeing Freya, haven’t you?” As Will’s smile widens, Merlin babbles on. “And here I am going on and on about Arthur, and you’ve got this shiny new relationship, and I haven’t even asked you about it. I am such a tosser!”

Will laughs. “Okay, you’re a tosser, but it’s not as if I’ve offered any information. We’ve been going out, and it’s been grand. Now finish what you were saying.”

Merlin swallows. “Okay, but then I want to hear all about it, mate. Really.” He leans forward. “You know how you can’t get enough of someone when it’s all new and they’re special?”

Will nods, smiling even more now, and Merlin can’t help but think how cute it is that gruff Will is all enamoured. “God, you’ve got it bad, mate. Okay, well, it’s that way for me…for us, and at first—you sure you want to hear this?” Will’s always been there for Merlin, but they’ve never discussed the specifics of his sex life with men.

Will takes a drink of his scotch. “There, I’ve fortified myself for the gorey details. Go on.”

“I’m not going into details, don’t worry. It’s just that the more I get of him, the more I want. At first I thought—man if I can just get my mouth around his cock. And then, I thought –if I can just sink my dick into that arse—“ he glances at Will and reins it in a bit. “And he seems to feel the same way, but now that we’ve done those things, instead of the desire ebbing off to an even keel, we are, well, insatiable for each other. I can’t get my mind off him. The things we did, the things I want to do…you know? It’s taking up my whole brain, and it can’t be good for either of us.”

Will wrinkles his brow. “So you’re saying all you have is the sex?”

Merlin shakes his head vehemently. “No, I’m not saying that at all! I’m saying, we can have this great shag session, and then we can talk and laugh and have fun, but it’s not long before I’m wanting him all over again.”

“It’s just the honeymoon phase, mate. It’ll wear off. I say enjoy it while you can.”

“But this is so much stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.” Merlin struggles to put it into words. “We have this physical attraction that’s almost like a drug. You know the smelling thing? Well, he swears it’s never been that way before with anyone else.” Merlin groans, tugging at his hair. “And the fucking weird thing is, I like to smell him, too! I fucking love it! I love to bury my nose in every bit of him. I feel like someone’s shot me with triple testosterone!”

“If you want to fuck another man, is it really testosterone?” Will asks philosophically before shaking his head to clear it. “Look,” he leans forward and touches Merlin’s arm. “I’m not trying to make less out of your problem, but is it really such a problem? Take a weekend and shag each other’s brains out. I mean nothing but fucking, Friday night to Monday morning. That ought to take the edge off. Live out those fantasies over and over again until they no longer have a hold on you.”

Merlin frowns. Could it really be that easy?

~~~~

That is how it happens that on Friday night Leon’s been banned from his and Arthur’s flat, and Merlin has Arthur kneeling on his dining room table, his arse in the air and cheek to the fine wood while Merlin rims him mercilessly.

“Holy fuck, Merlin!” Arthur keens, scrabbling for purchase where there is none. Arthur still has on his pristine, white work shirt and his posh socks, and that only makes him look all the hotter, in Merlin’s opinion. Merlin flicks his tongue over Arthur’s pink, puckered hole, pausing to nibble around the edges with his teeth. “Merlin!” Arthur all but shouts, his voice hoarse with need.

Merlin reaches down and runs a finger over the heavy sack swinging between Arthur’s thighs as he pushes his tongue inside of Arthur, eliciting a sob from the blond. Merlin is leaking, his cock impossibly hard. He reaches up and touches Arthur’s hole with his finger, pressing it in just a little. Bringing up his other hand, he opens the hole up and, working some spittle up in his mouth before sending it sliding down inside of Arthur.

“Motherfuckinghell, Merlin!” Arthur gasps.

Merlin bites Arthur’s arse cheek like an apple, reaching below to stroke the hot length of Arthur’s cock, which throbs like a wild thing in his palm. He touches Arthur’s thighs, helping him to move off the table and onto his feet, but still bent over it. Merlin gets to his knees, spreading Arthur’s plump cheeks and really going to town between them, licking, biting and sucking until his mouth is sore and his saliva runs down Arthur’s legs. All the while he continues to tease Arthur’s prick and balls, using Arthur’s pre-cum as a lubricant.

“Fuckmeplease,” Arthur groans, and Merlin bites Arthur’s thigh, leaving a mark, and prompting Arthur to sob an obscenity, all the while pushing his bum back in Merlin’s face.

Merlin takes a few long licks at Arthur’s sack before getting to shaky feet. Grabbing the lube he’s left on the table, he slicks himself up.

“Gonna fuck you now, Arthur,” he says low in his throat, and Arthur shivers, murmuring a long string of yeses and wiggling his white arse invitingly. “Hold still, babe, it’s coming,” Merlin promises, almost delirious with his desire to be inside that pretty hole. _Fucking Will is a fucking genius,_ he thinks as he pushes in and Arthur shouts. It’s so hot and wet and impossibly _tight_ inside of Arthur. So motherfucking good. He slides all the way in and then slowly back out, running his hands up under Arthur’s dress shirt, feeling the rippling muscles underneath. “Shit, I love you like this, Arthur. So posh and half-undressed, bent over the table for me.”

Arthur groans, tightening his inner muscles around Merlin’s cock so that Merlin sees stars for a moment. He speeds up his thrusts, pushing Arthur off his feet with each shift of his hips. Arthur grunts again and again as Merlin slams into him. Merlin looks down to where they’re connected, and slows down a bit to watch his cock sinking inside. Overcome, he reaches down and picks up Arthur by the thighs, holding him as he pushes deep and deeper, trying to fit as much of himself as he can inside of Arthur.

“Fuck!” Arthur moans.

“Yes, Arthur, fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Merlin begins slamming into Arthur, and he knows the moment when Arthur cums, undoubtedly splashing the underside of the table, because Arthur’s muscles tighten around him and Arthur gasps-growls Merlin’s name. Another five or six thrusts and Merlin’s there, too. He pulls out and spurts all over Arthur’s bum, rubbing his spunk into the soft flesh with his fingers.

Arthur’s no less reticent when he takes Merlin in the shower the next morning, pushing him up against the wet tiles while his tongue delves deliciously in Merlin’s ear. With unerring accuracy, he manages to hit Merlin’s prostate with every slide, leaving Merlin slack-mouthed and panting, holding onto the soap rack for dear life until it finally breaks off the wall entirely.

This leads to a couple of delicious hours wrapped up together on the couch, sipping coffee and talking about nothing in particular. Merlin loves being nestled in between Arthur’s thighs, his head against Arthur’s chest. They watch the sun rise over the top of the ancient church down the road, and laugh at the antics of the pigeons perching on Arthur’s balcony railing. The door leading out is cracked, and a nice breeze blows in, carrying the faint scent of a changing season.

Merlin plays with the hairs on Arthur’s calve, rubbing them to and fro.

“I want you to move in with me,” Arthur suddenly says, and Merlin stills.

“What did you say?”

Arthur chuckles into Merlin’s damp hair. “I want you to move in here.”

“With you and Leon?”

Arthur moves to the side so he can see Merlin’s face. Merlin’s heart is racing, pounding so loudly in his ears, he almost doesn’t catch what Arthur says next.

“No, pixie. Leon’s been wanting to move in with Percy—he just hasn’t found a way to tell me yet. Would you like to move in here?” Arthur runs a finger down the side of Merlin’s face in a way that makes Merlin feel achingly cherished. Part of him so wants to shout _yes!_ and snog Arthur silly, but another part of him, the one with some sense, holds back.

“Arthur, there’s no way I can afford to live here. You know that.”

Arthur looks like he actually hasn’t considered it. “The money doesn’t matter to me,” he says.

“But it matters to _me_ ,” Merlin sits up.

“So just pay what you can afford,” Arthur tells him, trying to pull him back down into his embrace, and Merlin suddenly remembers Uther pulling Nevin across the grass and into his arms in front of the bonfire.  Merlin struggles, finally standing up and moving away entirely.

“Arthur, I won’t be a kept man,” he says, and Arthur’s face changes instantly to something dark.

“Is that what you think I want you to be?” he asks, swinging his feet off the couch and sitting up straight. “Is that all you think you mean to me?” Arthur stands. And Merlin knows he’s going too far. He pretty sure Arthur doesn’t see him that way, but something inside Merlin pushes him on, because what if he does?

“I’m my own person, Arthur. I’m not something for you to toy with when you get in the mood.”

Arthur’s eyes widen and he sputters. “ _Toy_ with? You think I want to _toy_ with you? Exactly what have I done to give you that impression?”

Merlin puts his hands on his hips, and he’s glad they bothered to put some clothes on, because having this heated discussion naked would undoubtedly take something away from its serious nature. He thinks again of Uther and Nevin. Of Nevin cooking, and waiting in the park while Uther shops. “I’m not wife material,” he says emphatically.

Arthur actually barks out a laugh, which only serves to make Merlin angrier. “Did I ask you to be my wife?” Arthur says, and something else washes over Merlin. Something shameful. _No, of course he didn’t._

“Of course not,” he says, turning around and heading for the bedroom where he’s left his keys. Because he’s going home. Now.

“Merlin…don’t walk away while we’re talking,” Arthur follows him.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Merlin says, searching under pillows and blankets that have been shoved off in the night.

“Where is all this coming from?” Arthur asks, leaning against the door. “I just want to be with you all the time, that’s all.”

 _But not in the married sense of the word,_ Merlin thinks unreasonably, because he doesn’t want Arthur to ask him to marry him either. _Fuck, he doesn’t know what he wants._ He thinks he just wants to stop _feeling_ so much. He finds his keys and clutches them in his hand. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you, Arthur?”

Arthur blinks. “I don’t know…”

“Of course you are. Well it’s time you learn you can’t have everything you want just because you want it.” Merlin slips by him and ignores Arthur’s calls to stop.

It’s sometime after, when Merlin’s alone in his flat eating from a carton of ice cream, that he stops his churning thoughts long enough to wonder if he didn’t just purposely sabotage the best thing he’s ever had.

 


	8. Fix it, You Dolt

 

By the time Merlin’s consumed the entire carton of mint chocolate chip, he’s calmed down enough to pick up his mobile and try to call Arthur. When it immediately goes to voicemail, Merlin thinks about stammering out a lame apology, but instead he throws his mobile across the room. It almost hits Gwaine in the face as he walks through the door.

“Don’t talk to me,” Merlin orders before Gwaine can say anything. His friend just raises a brow and heads into the kitchen where Merlin can hear him rattling through the cabinets.

Merlin leans his head back and thinks to earlier that morning. Had Arthur been in the wrong at all, or had Merlin flipped his lid about nothing? His stomach churns and tears prick at the back of his eyes. _He is not going to cry, goddammit!_ When he hears Gwaine headed his way, Merlin jumps off the couch, shoulders by him, and locks himself into the bathroom where he runs water until he can get himself under control.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in there, but after a good long while, Gwaine knocks.

“We can’t afford the water bill, mate!” he says, and Merlin can tell Gwaine’s lips are pressed to the crack in the door. He dutifully shuts off the faucet and stares at his crumpled face in the mirror.

“I am not going out and leaving you like this, Merlin,” Gwaine finally says. “We’re friends, yeah? I can handle seeing you upset, so stop hiding.”

Merlin takes a shaking breath and watches several large tears make their way down his face before turning and opening the door. Gwaine’s sympathetic expression and open arms undo him completely, and he falls into them, sobbing like he hasn’t since he was three.

“I’ll kill the motherfucker,” Gwaine says quietly, but with so much venom behind it, Merlin clutches at him.

“No, Arthur didn’t do anything. It was all me. I-I think I broke up with him.”

“But why?” Gwaine tries to pull Merlin’s face back by grasping his hair, but he won’t give up his nook in Gwaine’s neck. Merlin’s shoulders shake. “Because I love him, Gwaine! I fucking love him, and it scares the shit out of me. He asked me to move in with him, and I practically accused him of wanting to buy me.”

Gwaine tightens his hold around Merlin’s back and says, “Maybe it’s just been too much too fast. Take a break, Merlin. If Arthur really cares about you, he’ll wait.”

“I doubt he’s ever going to speak to me again,” Merlin sniffles. “I acted like a lunatic.”

“Yeah, well,” Gwaine strokes Merlin’s head, “you do that sometimes. He’ll get over it. What is that old saying? Throw ‘em up in the air and if they come back down, you haven’t really lost ‘em?”

Merlin frowns, pulling back. “Huh?” He shakes his head, laughing, and goes for the loo roll. “That doesn’t make a bit of sense.” He wads up some tissue and blows his nose, then goes to rinse his face in the sink.

Gwaine pulls Merlin’s mobile out of his pocket. “I think it’s dead, Jim,” he says seriously, and Merlin barks out a laugh. He takes his mobile and looks it over, trying to turn it on.

“I think you’re right, Bones. Great. Now I’ll have to go get a new one tomorrow.”

“Get some sleep,” Gwaine suggests. “Things will look brighter in the morning.”

“Now, I think _that_ really is a saying,” Merlin tells him with a small smile. “You can go now. I’ve finished having my fit.”

Gwaine kisses Merlin on the head. “Call me if you need me. Oh, wait.” He looks at Merlin’s phone. “You can’t.” He shrugs, gives Merlin’s hair a ruffle, and heads out. “I’ll be at Elena’s. Come over if you want.”

Merlin watches telly an hour and a half before seriously thinking about going back over to Arthur’s. He knows he owes Arthur an apology for the over-the-top way he acted, and he knows there’s just no way he can wait for the following day to talk to him. He goes into his bed room and changes into something that isn’t rumpled, then takes another look in the mirror, trying to see if it’s too obvious that he’s spent hours sobbing like a girl. He combs his hair, heaves a sigh, and heads out.

Merlin’s legs begin to shake on his way up on the lift. It’s stupid, Merlin knows, but he’s nervous as hell. He keeps replaying the conversation in his head, wondering why he got so angry—no, scratch that. He understands his own feelings; he just can’t explain them very well. When he reaches the door to Arthur’s flat, he takes a deep breath and knocks. It takes several long minutes for someone to answer, and then that someone is not whom he expected.

“Leon,” he says, surprised.

“I do live here,” Leon reminds him. He’s shirtless and has a dish towel in his hand.

“Of course,” Merlin recovers. “Um, is Arthur here?”

“No, mate. He texted me that I didn’t have to stay out all weekend after all. Said I could have the place tonight, in fact, so I’m…entertaining.”

Merlin catches sight of Percy in the living room.

“Oh, okay, then. Well, any idea where he’s gone?”

Leon scrunches up his face, scratching his head. “Office? I dunno, actually. I thought he was with you.”

“Thanks, mate.” Merlin turns and leaves. He hadn’t expected for Arthur not to be there. Should he go to Arthur’s office? It was after hours. Would he even be able to get in? Merlin has never been there, but he knows where it is. He decides to take a cab, and make up his mind when he arrives.

The London offices of Pendragon Perfumes are sleek and modern, and there’s a guard stationed at the door.

“Sorry, but they’re closed,” he tells Merlin.

“I was hoping to see a friend of mine, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin tells him, feeling more than stupid. “I think he might be working late?”

“Mr. Pendragon isn’t here this evening,” the security guard tells him, and Merlin has no way of telling if he’s being truthful. He probably thinks Merlin’s a nutter. Merlin thanks him and, rather than hailing another cab, takes a walk down the street. As he’s crossing to the other side, thinking he might get a bite to eat before going home, he hears someone call out his name. Turning, he recognizes the man jogging up to him.

“Merlin! It’s been a long time,” Gilly says, grinning at him in a guileless way that Merlin remembers once finding rather appealing when they’d been lovers.

“Oh, Gilly, hello. Yeah, it’s been a while.” He’s surprised when Gilly gives him an exuberant hug.

“So how’s life been treating you?” Gilly asks, falling into step with him. Merlin notices Gilly’s lost some weight—probably fifteen pounds—since he last saw him, and he looks a lot happier.

“Pretty good, what about you?” he asks.

“Switched jobs. Remember how I hated being in sales? I went back to school and now I’m a nurse! Can you believe it?”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “Good on you, Gil! By your smile, I take it you like that much better?”

“Oh, loads. I really love it. Hey—are you on your way somewhere, or do you have time to grab a bite with me?”

Merlin really has no reason to say no. He’s hungry, he can’t find Arthur, and he has an entire evening to waste. If the mobile place was open this late, he’d go there, but he knows it closed hours ago. He thinks about trying Arthur on Gilly’s phone, but he realizes that he’d never bothered to memorize Arthur’s number. He’d programmed it into his phone, and that was that.

“Sure, that sounds great,” he says, and Gilly smiles widely. They go into a Thai place, and find a seat next to the front windows because Gilly says he wants to keep an eye on his new car.

“Who knows what will happen to it, parked on the street like that? I’d just been to the druggist on the corner when I saw you. Blimey, but I’ve missed you, Merlin.”

Merlin’s surprised at that. He and Gilly hadn’t exactly ended things on good terms. Gilly looks a bit embarrassed.

“I know, I know. Didn’t know a good thing when I had it,” Gilly says glumly. He sighs. “I was a right idiot. Hating my job like I did was a big part of it. I was jealous of the way you loved yours, and I always felt angry. But things with you, Merlin…I’ve never had that again with anyone.”

Merlin knows he had deep feelings for Gilly once, and Gilly’s inability to return them fully had been what had ultimately broken them up, although there had been other things, too. Gilly had been short-tempered at times and prone to jealousy and possessivenss, and it seemed all they had that was good was in the bedroom. Although now, comparing it to what he’s experienced with Arthur, Merlin doesn’t think it had been all that great with Gilly.

While he’s musing, the waitress pours them some wine, and Merlin’s a little surprised to find Gilly’s hand on his, squeezing it lightly.

“You are a wonderful man,” Gilly is saying, and Merlin blinks twice.

“Er, thanks, mate.”

“No, I’m serious,” Gilly tells him fervently. “I didn’t tell you that before—how wonderful you are. I should have done.”

At that moment, Merlin catches sight of movement outside the window, and turns his head, his mouth falling open when he sees Arthur standing there, pain, anger, and hurt written so plainly over his face, that it’s like a knife to Merlin’s heart. Merlin sees Arthur taking it all in—the intimate setting, the wine, his hand in Gilly’s—Merlin jerks it away. He jumps up, but Arthur is already gone.

“Merlin…” Gilly says as Merlin steps away from the table, knocking over his glass in his rush to get out.

He hits the exit door so hard, he knows he’s going to have a bruise. Outside the street seems empty, and Merlin picks a direction and runs, hoping it’s the right one.


	9. Closed Heart, Open Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My head's clogged with sinuses, but I've written some before work. Have a good day!  
> Your comments are like hugs; thank you! <3

 

When Merlin rounds the nearest corner, he spots Arthur yards away hailing a cab.

“Arthur!” he yells, but Arthur either doesn’t hear him, or ignores him. Merlin breaks out in a run again, almost toppling a lady coming out of a restaurant. He calls back apologies, putting on a burst of speed as the cab door closes. Merlin manages to slap his hand on the trunk before it takes off, and yank the door open, cramming himself inside.

“I already have a fair—are you completely nutters?” the cab driver barks at him.

“I’m going where he’s going,” Merlin tells him before turning to Arthur, who eyes him with a mixture of incredulity and anger.

The driver mutters something but pulls away from the kerb.

“Arthur,” Merlin looks at the man beside him. “I need to talk to you. I would have called, but my mobile broke.”

“If you’d wanted to talk, you wouldn’t have left my flat,” Arthur tells him neutrally. This is a side Merlin’s never seen of Arthur—cold and completely closed off. He supposes he deserves it.

“I know, I know. I’m an idiot. A child. I’ve been kicking myself, believe me.”

Arthur gives him a disbelieving look.

“What? Oh—Arthur, that wasn’t what it looked like. I mean,” Merlin runs his fingers through his already wind-whipped hair. “That wasn’t a date or anything—“

Arthur raises a disdainful brow. “Is this where you tell me it was your cousin…who has just been delivered some very bad news, and you were simply holding his hand in comfort?"

"No, no," Merlin rushes to assure him. "That was my ex-boyfriend, Gilly."

Arthur takes a sharp breath before glancing around as though hoping they’d magically arrived at their destination, and he could escape. Seeing that this isn’t the case, he turns back to Merlin and seems to pull all of his inner resources together.

In the back of his mind, Merlin is aware that the cab driver is listening raptly to their conversation, and Merlin shoots him a slightly peeved look.

“Obviously I’ve misjudged what we—what I thought we had, Merlin,” Arthur tells him, eyes steady. “I rushed into things and let my…” he works his mouth for a moment, “unusual attraction to you take over my head. I don’t think we have anything more to say to one another.”

Merlin stares. “Arthur, you can’t mean that. I know I overreacted today, and we have a lot to talk about, but please don’t push me completely away. I-I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur blinks and turns his attention to the window, looking as though if he could will the taxi to where he wanted it to be, he would.

Merlin catches a sympathetic look from the driver in the rear view, and takes a shaky breath. He puts a hand on Arthur’s arm, and the latter jolts.

“Arthur,” Merlin says in a lower tone. He licks his lips, trying to find the words. “Maybe I don’t deserve you. In fact, I know I don’t. But what we have…it’s frightening…and wonderful at the same time. Please look at me.”

Arthur reluctantly turns, but his eyes are cold and distant, and Merlin’s heart aches for the warmth he once saw in them.

He swallows. “If you don’t want to see me, I get it. But I’m not letting go that easily. Please listen to what I have to say, as lame as it all sounds.” He turns in the seat so that he faces Arthur more fully.

“I’ve been scared, and trying to hide it. There are things about you…about us…that are overwhelming, and maybe I’m just immature. The thing about moving in…I know you weren’t trying to buy me, of course. And I know I should have calmed down and talked it out like an adult, but…but I didn’t. I ran home, broke my phone, and then when I wised up and went to your flat, you weren’t there.”

Merlin thinks he sees a chink in Arthur’s armor, and rushes on. “So I went to Pendragon Perfumes, hoping you were working, but the security officer told me you weren’t there. That’s when I completely and accidentally ran into Gilly. I haven’t seen him in ages, and he wanted to tell me about his new career. I was about to eat something anyway, and I didn’t think I could reach you tonight. I was miserable and befuddled, so I sat down with him, and he started in about our past and got a bit maudlin…that’s what you saw. Arthur, I left him sitting there. I ran after you—because you matter to me. I know I don’t act like it, but you’ve got to believe me when I say it, please.”

He ended on a soft, pleading note, and Arthur stared at him a long moment that, to Merlin, seemed devoid of air; it wasn’t until Arthur spoke that Merlin felt he could properly breathe again.

“I believe you,” Arthur says quietly, and Merlin heaves a sigh.

“Thank God.”

The taxi pulls up in front of a row of stately townhouses, and Arthur holds up a finger to the cab driver. He turns to Merlin. “I’ve got to go.”

Panic consumes Merlin, because surely, _surely_ Arthur will talk things out with him now. He reaches out, grasping Arthur’s hand. “Arthur, please, let’s go somewhere and talk.”

“I can’t,” Arthur says. He gives Merlin a look that’s longing and regretful, both, and that absolutely slices Merlin’s heart in two. “Goodbye, Merlin.” He hands the driver several bills and gets out.

“Arthur…” Merlin starts, but Arthur’s closed the door.

“Where to?” the driver asks.

Merlin watches Arthur climb the stairs to the townhouse and disappear inside. He rubs his palms over his stinging eyes and leans back in the seat. After several moments of shell-shocked staring, during which the cab driver is thankfully silent, Merlin gives Gwen’s address. 

 

 

~~~~~~

When Gwen opens the door and gets a look at Merlin’s dejected, disheveled appearance, she reaches out and pulls him inside.

“What happened to you?” she asks, rubbing his arm. She’s in her pyjamas, and the telly is on in the other room. Merlin resists her attempts to hug him, because he really doesn’t think he deserves hugging, _and look where Gwaine’s sympathy got him_.

He wanders into the flat, noting that Lance is asleep on the couch. “Sorry—it’s late, isn’t it?” he says before sinking droopily onto a chair.

“Not too late, plus tomorrow’s Sunday. Merlin, what’s happened? You look awful. Here, let me get you a cuppa.”

She heads for the kitchen, and Merlin leans back and stares at the ceiling, feeling a bit numb. When he remembers how incredibly, ecstatically happy he was just the night before, he can’t believe how things have changed in so short a time.

Gwen’s puts a mug down on the table beside Merlin and brings a chair to face him. “Tell me,” she says, and Merlin does. He vomits up every detail of his dumb actions that day, along with every insecurity he has about his relationship with  Arthur. He completely purges himself of all that’s been bothering him ever since they met, including his odd feelings involving Arthur’s father’s relationship with his partner. Merlin even tells Gwen intimate things that he doesn’t think he’d normally tell her, but through it all Gwen remains silent and understanding.

When Merlin’s finished, he’s exhausted. Gwen suggests that he go take a long, hot shower and put on some of Lance’s pyjamas.

“I’ll talk to you about it all then,” she promises.

When he’s curled up on Gwen’s bed half an hour later with a fresh cup of tea, and Gwen’s lying beside him in the semi-darkness, Merlin feels a modicum of relief from the pain in his heart.

“Go ahead,” he tells Gwen. “Let me have it. I know I’ve been stupid.”

“Merlin, I’m your friend,” Gwen begins. “I’m obviously going to see your side of things better than I see Arthur’s, as Gwaine obviously did. I want to say that you just had a rather childish tantrum and Arthur’s being a bit unreasonable and will come around, but…”

And here she looks at Merlin a little pityingly. “I got to know Arthur just a little bit over our weekend in Jim’s Beard, and I’ve talked to Freya about him some since she’s been dating Will. Freya’s been Morgana’s PA for some time now, and she thinks very highly of their family. I think you’ve done Arthur an incredible injustice.”

Merlin’s heart sinks. “I know I have, Gwen, I know,” he almost whines, but Gwen stills him with her hand.

“No, Merlin. I want this to really sink in. Arthur doesn’t seem the type to go into things lightly, and he’s chosen you. I don’t think he lets go the way he does with you—the way you’ve described—so easily.”

Merlin colours a little, but remains silent.

“And I definitely don’t think he blithely asks men to move in with him. I know you have your pride, and I understand about the whole money issue. But you have to look at things from Arthur’s point of view. I don’t think money has ever mattered to him. I don’t even think it’s a consideration. All he knows is he wants to be with you. And now you’ve hurt him. You’ve turned him down, accused him of toying with you, run away, and then smashed his face in an old relationship that you’ve probably admitted to him was once pretty serious.”

“That was an accident!” Merlin moans, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

“I know, sweetie, but it still happened. And I’m sure he believes you, but he saw it all the same. He’s hurting, and there you were holding your ex’s hand in a restaurant like nothing was going on. You have to know that hurt him.”

Merlin knows, but Gwen’s words really bring it home. _God, he wants to throw himself in front of a lorry._

Still, a part of him wants to stick up for himself. “But don’t you think he’s taking this a bit far? It’s really our first fight, and he’s broken things off! Gwaine says…”

Gwen gives him a look. “Gwaine. Really?”

Merlin closes him mouth. Right.

“Merlin, you’ve got to know that you can be a bit self-absorbed and oblivious. Add to that the fact that we all tend to baby you a little, and you have to see that you have a bit of growing up to do.”

Merlin is silent, taking all of this in.

“What am I going to do?” he finally asks in a small voice.

“Well,” Gwen rolls onto her back. “This is important, Merlin. The first thing you do is make absolutely sure that you want Arthur back. That you really, really want a serious relationship with him, and that you aren’t going to be scared off by all the intense _feels_. 

Merlin puts his cup on the table. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m warning you, because you don’t want to do any more damage than you already have. Once you’ve thought this completely and thoroughly out, if you decide you really want Arthur back, I’ll help you.”

Merlin starts to say that of course he wants Arthur back, but Gwen raises a finger. “No, Merlin. I want you to think this out for one week. Next Saturday, we’ll talk.”

“What? Gwen, I can’t wait that long!” Merlin objects, unable to imagine how he’ll possibly let this go for a week.

“You can, and more importantly, you _will_ if Arthur really matters to you, Merlin.”


	10. A Little Introspection is a Good Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many lovely comments! Thanks so much. <3

 

Merlin sleeps fitfully, and at some point in the night, he’s kicked out of Gwen’s bed by a disgruntled Lance. He wakes up early Monday morning lying half-on, half-off Gwen’s couch and gets up, scribbling her a note of thanks. He heads straight for the mobile store. His phone is beyond repair, having hit the wall when Merlin threw it at Gwaine, and Merlin has to buy a new one. The worst thing about this is that Merlin’s contacts are irretrievable and he no longer has Arthur’s mobile number.

He knows he promised Gwen he wouldn’t contact Arthur, but Merlin can’t stand the fact that he’s completely lost touch with him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the week, but one thing’s for certain: he has to work. He’s already taken too much time off, and if he doesn’t get some clients in to see him, he’s going to run out of money pretty fast.

 _Well, you could be living with a beautiful man in a beautiful flat,_ he reminds himself while preparing for his first massage of the day. _If you weren’t such a numpty, that is._

Fortunately his client is a rather large woman who doesn’t make him think of Arthur while he works. Nothing about her brings to mind the memory of Arthur laid out on Merlin’s massage table, oily and pliant under Merlin’s fingers. Merlin absolutely does not think about how much he misses him.

“You’re such a nice young man,” the woman tells Merlin in her deep, croaky voice that comes from too much smoking. “So handsome. I have a niece about your age.”

“I’m gay,” Merlin says flatly, digging his fingers into her spine.

“Oh…well, I suppose you won’t be wanting a girl, then.”

“No,” Merlin agrees. His mind wanders to what Gwen had said to him the night before. That he’s self-involved and oblivious. And that his friends baby him. Is it really true? What exactly is it that he’s oblivious to? Other people’s feelings? Other people’s desires? He continues massaging, trying to work it out in his mind.

“Oi, luv, you’re being a bit rough!” The woman objects, and Merlin immediately lets up on the pressure, apologizing. 

 

 

That evening Merlin convinces Will to join him for a pint in order to cheer him up a bit. They meet at the Dragon’s Lair. Will looks unusually nice in navy slacks and a striped shirt, and admits he has a date with Freya later on.

Merlin had forgotten again to inquire after their new relationship.

“Will, do you think I’m oblivious and self-involved?”

“Well, I don’t know, mate,” Will wiggles in the worn chair, trying to get comfortable. “‘Self-involved’ may be a bit too strong.”

Merlin frowns. “So you don’t think I talk about myself and my problems all the time? Didn’t I manage to miss the fact that you’ve had a new girlfriend for weeks?”

“Well, yeah,” Will admits. “That’s true. But you’ve been pretty wrapped up in Poshypants--all worried about how much you want him and he wants you, and how happy you are together.”

Merlin makes a face. “You make it sound really stupid.”

Will shrugs and drinks his beer. “Having a guy who’s really rich, good-looking, and into you must’ve been hell, mate.”

“Shut _up_!” Merlin groans, sloshing his beer with an agitated hand motion. “And what about babying me? Is that true? Do you guys really do that?”

Will stops in the middle of wiping the spilled beer off Merlin’s sleeve and puts the napkin down. “No, no way.”

“Yes, you do,” Merlin’s eyes get wide. “It’s true! And that night I first went out with Arthur, there you were waiting for me to get home like I wasn’t capable of handling myself!”

Will pouts a little. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m a grown man!”

“You don’t act like one,” Will points out.

“Ah, ha! So you do agree with her!” Merlin points a finger at Will. “Great, just great.” He puts his head in his hands. “Fuck, Will. I didn’t have this trouble before…in my other relationships. I wanted a stable relationship with Gilly, didn’t I? I didn’t push him away.”

“You were more mature than Gilly,” Will tells him. “You always pick that kind of bloke. Remember Ben? He didn’t even have a job. Honestly, Arthur’s probably the first bloke you’ve ever gone out with who doesn’t live with his mother.”

Merlin slumps back in his chair, thinking this over. “So you’re saying that I was fine as long as I was calling the shots."

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“What is it about me that makes you want to take care of me?” Merlin inquires, ripping his cocktail napkin into long shreds . “Do I exude some kind of helpless pheromone or something?”

Will considers. “Naw, I think it’s just from knowing you so long. You were always a little clueless as a kid, getting into trouble because you hadn’t thought things through. Remember how overly-protective your mum was?”

Merlin nods. His mother had rarely let him out of her sight. He’s surprised she didn’t go to uni with him.

“It rankled you something awful. You hated how she kept tabs on you all the time. And another thing,” Will says suddenly, “that Ben bloke was always checking up on you, remember? Always thought you were going to cheat. You hated that. That’s what messed up that relationship. Him always questioning your every move, and you always telling him to get a job.”

Merlin nods. “Your point?”

“I dunno,” Will shrugs. “I’m just trying to figure out why Arthur having some control over you, like you say his father has with Nevin, weirds you out so much. I’m thinking maybe it’s because of past experiences you’ve had with your mum and other blokes.”

“Maybe,” Merlin replies, nodding.

“Or maybe not,” Will says, finishing off his pint. “You could just be one of those people that can’t let themselves be happy, Merlin. I mean, you thrived under less than suitable circumstances, but when you found a really great thing, you had to go and muck it up.”

Merlin stares, open-mouthed. “You really aren’t cheering me up, you know that?”

“Sorry, mate.”

 

 

On the third day after Gwen told Merlin to wait a week, Merlin stands in line at the Starbucks near his place of business. He’s contemplating which highly caloric coffee confection will make him feel better about himself when he spots Arthur on the other side of the shop. He freezes, drinking in the sight of him before Arthur turns and they lock eyes.

At that moment, Merlin’s heart physically hurts. Arthur is so perfect, so fucking goddamn perfect, Merlin can’t believe he let him get away like he did. He tries to convey everything he’s feeling, wondering if it's possible to telepathically send love signals across Starbucks. Arthur seems paralyzed for a moment, completely disregarding the woman who is speaking to him as he stares into Merlin’s eyes. After several long seconds, he abruptly breaks the eye contact with Merlin and turns, striding out of the building.

Merlin blinks, stunned and upset by the experience. Morgana suddenly appears from the rest rooms and stops to speak to the woman who had been with Arthur, and Merlin steps out of the queue and heads over there.

“Morgana,” he says, and she turns, obviously surprised to see him. “Merlin!”

She looks back to the woman. “Viv, go find Arthur and tell him I’ll be out in a minute.” The woman, an attractive blonde, nods, gives Merlin the once over, and leaves. Morgana looks at Merlin again.

“What’s happened between the two of you? Arthur won’t say a word, and he’s been absolutely horrid to be around.”

“It’s all my fault,” Merlin says. “I hurt him, and he doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t blame him.”

Morgana’s green eyes harden. “What did you do?”

Merlin bites his lip. “I have commitment problems, I guess, or just...you know, problems.” On impulse, he reaches out and grasps Morgana’s hand. Her eyes lower to stare for a moment before rising again, but she doesn’t pull away. “Morgana, I love Arthur. I really do. But I’m going to have to prove it to him, and I need a little time to get my shit together first. Just…please don’t let him give up on me.”

The sun from the large windows glints off Morgana’s eyes, making them spark for a moment. “Arthur doesn’t trust easily. He was different with you,” she says, and Merlin is surprised to find that he can indeed feel worse than he already does.

"You'd best fix this, Merlin." Morgana turns and leaves the shop.


	11. An Unexpected Insight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies, thanks again for the wonderful comments. It's so nice to get home from work or wake up to them! Here's a bit more. I made a very slight change to Merlin's answer to Morgana about what happened between him and Arthur. Just made it a little less certain, because it really isn't exactly commitment issues that Merlin has. He isn't sure what it is yet, but he's getting there.

 

Merlin is so gobsmacked by Morgana’s words, he leaves without his coffee. He’s already at work by the time he remembers and feels the niggling need for caffeine.

“Fuck, Pam?” he calls to his receptionist who is in the back getting fresh towels out of the small dryer. “I’m sorry, hate to ask. But can you run to the closest coffee shop and get me a double expresso? I’ll pay for whatever you’d like.”

Pam willingly goes, and Merlin’s glad for a moment alone before his first client, a giant bear of a man who reminds Merlin a bit of a Sasquatch. He sighs as he readies his massage room, wishing he’d known more about Arthur Pendragon before he’d fallen arse over tit for the man. How was he different with Merlin? What exactly did Morgana mean by that? Just happier?

And Merlin never got the chance to ask Morgana for Arthur’s cell number. He sighs, arranging his various oils on the shelf. Morgana probably wouldn’t have given it to him anyway.

As he looks at the various scents, Merlin remembers what if feels like to have Arthur’s eager nose buried in his neck. Arthur thought Merlin smelled good, all the time, no matter what. Merlin. Who’d never been able to wear a store-bought scent due to allergies. Who’d never in his life been paid that particular compliment. And Arthur, this princely god of a man, would actually rub his nose from the back of Merlin’s ear down to his armpit, nuzzling him there. _Kissing_ him there.

Merlin shivers with the memories that bombard him, and it surprisingly isn’t lust that’s overtaken him. His eyes prickle with tears, and as he hears the bells on the front door jangle, he hurriedly wipes his face and goes to greet his customer.

 

  
 

Around noon, when Merlin’s stomach’s growling because he hadn’t bothered with breakfast, his current client, a man around Merlin’s age with a neat goatee and a runner’s body, turns his head and smiles up at him.

“Hungry, eh?”

Merlin jumps. He’d been lost in his own thoughts again, all of which surrounded Arthur. He’d been systematically going over their relationship since that morning, from the moment they met to the last time their eyes had clung to each other across the crowded Starbucks.

“What? Oh, yeah, a bit.” Merlin’s stomach gives another loud rumble as though to confirm it. Merlin finishes up on the man’s lean calf and switches to the other one.

“Sounds like more than a bit, mate. We’re almost done here, how about closing up and going out for a bite with me?” The man, Henry, Merlin thinks his name is, rises up on an elbow and looks at Merlin over his shoulder with inviting grey eyes. He’s really quite good-looking, Merlin realizes, something that he normally would have noticed the minute his naked body hit Merlin’s table. But lately Merlin’s attractions lay decidedly elsewhere.

“Oh, um, thanks for that. But I’m, well, I’m involved with someone.”

The man’s mouth rather bow-like forms a moue, and he whips the towel off his muscled arse. “Too bad. I could really fancy you.”

In one lithe move, Henry jumps off the table and heads to a side room to get dressed.

Merlin watches him go, imagining for a moment what it might be like to kiss that man. Hold him in his arms and be held by him.

Merlin finds that he doesn’t have any interest in it. None. He still yearns for one pair of arms, only, and one pair of velvety soft, red, perpetually pouting lips.

He sighs and goes to wash his hands.

Thinking it really might be nice to get out for a bit, Merlin closes up the shop, sending Pam for an extra-long lunch. He walks to the building that holds Gwaine’s practice, but there’s already a hastily scrawled _Gone to Lunch_ sign posted on the door. Turning around, he heads for the street and a taxi.

On a whim, Merlin chooses an out-of-the-way deli across town that he remembers has excellent chicken salad, and finds a table near the mounted television so he can catch up on a soap opera he hasn’t seen in ages. Not surprisingly, the plot hasn’t moved forward much.

He’s into the second half of his sandwich and a bit involved in the antics of the slag of the show when a familiar voice greets him.

“Merlin?”  
He turns, surprised to see Nevin standing there, dressed casually and holding his basket of food and a drink.

“Hello,” he says, shoving his food to the side of his mouth with his tongue. Merlin looks around. “Are you alone?”  
“Yeah, I had an appointment,” Nevin tells him. “Mind if I join you?”

Merlin smiles and indicates the seat across from him.

After Nevin is seated, Merlin asks after Uther.

“Oh, Budge is doing great,” Nevis says with a warm smile. “All piss and vinegar as usual, at least on the surface, but you know first-hand how the Pendragon’s are, don’t you? How are things with Arthur? I must say, I haven’t seen that boy this happy in—well, never.” Nevin takes a bite of his chicken club.

His words feel like a slap to the face. “Actually, Arthur and I aren’t seeing one another anymore,” Merlin says, his bite of sandwich lodging in his throat.

“What?” Nevin puts his drink down. “But,why?”

“I made a mess of things,” Merlin sighs. He looks at the quick little man sitting across from him and thinks, _if anyone’s going to understand, it’s going to be him._

“Arthur asked me to move in with him, and I just…freaked. It hurt his feelings, and he’s not speaking to me.”

Nevin blinks. “He asked you to move in with him? I can’t believe it. That’s so…unlike Arthur.”

Anger at the unfairness of it all coils, hot and thick, inside Merlin, and he says rather shortly, “Yeah, well, it’s great having everyone telling me this now. How was I to know that?”

Nevin wipes his mouth with his napkin and leans back. “Arthur came on to you rather like a freight train, didn’t he Merlin?” the man’s birdlike eyes are sympathetic. Merlin nods, but doesn’t give into his urge to seek the man’s further comfort.

“Arthur’s got this way of—controlling me,” he tells Nevin. “Not with his words, but with his—I don’t know.” Merlin sighs. “With the way I feel about him, I guess.” He studies his plate, trying to work it out. “It’s like, with Arthur, I have no control. I’m out of control.” He looks up at Nevin. “And it scares the living daylights out of me.” He leans forward, hand absently sliding across the table towards the other man. “But you know what I mean. Uther does it to you, too, doesn’t he? I saw it that weekend, but with Uther, it’s much more handsy. He forces you to do as he wants.”

Nevin’s eyes haven’t left Merlin. Suddenly, he smiles. Then laughs.

“Forces? Merlin, you’ve got it all wrong.”

Merlin sits back, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Nevin laughs. “Oh, mate. It’s we who control them. If I want Budge’s attention, I know exactly how to get it.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see how we have the upper hand? The poor, sweet, loveable fools are lost without us.” Nevin smirks a little.

“Look, I don’t really try to manage Budge or anything, but it occurred to me long ago that I could if I wanted to. Yes, he wants what he wants, when he wants it. But I don’t have to give it to him. I could walk out. I could ignore him. I could turn away. If I wanted to, which of course I don’t, because I’m really as crazy about him as he is about me. And if I did any of those things, Budge would seethe and pout, close himself up.” Nevin leans forward, enunciating his words. “And be miserable.”

Merlin blinks, finally seeing what the man is saying.

“Yes,” Nevin nods. “Arthur’s deep feelings for you put you in control, Merlin, or at least on even ground. The Pendragon men may be used to plowing their way through things, but they’re really a pile of mush when it comes to the men they love. And I, for one, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Merlin looks away, a little overcome. “I’ve really botched it up, haven’t I?”

Nevin reaches across the table and pats Merlin’s hand. “You’ll find a way to get him back. He’s a bit stubborn and prideful, but Arthur really loves you. I could tell that weekend. He’s not normally so open and giving.”

Again, Merlin feels like he’s been punched in the gut. It’s becoming such a regular occurrence, he just might get used to it.


	12. Week's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I haven't made terrible mistakes in this part. I've only written it this morning before work, and the tense is tricky in the first part.  
> Thanks for all the comments! Lol, you guys really get into their psyches.

By Friday evening, Merlin is emotionally as well as physically tired. It seems as though everyone and his mother wanted a massage that week, and somewhere around Thursday morning, Merlin began to suspect Gwaine of sending extra patients over to keep Merlin busy.

But the week is through, and if Merlin weren’t so thoroughly worn out, he thinks he’s go over to Gwen’s and force her to help him win Arthur back.

Instead, he lies on his couch still dressed from work and thinks over what he has learned about himself.

At the top of the list is the fact that he doesn’t miss Arthur any less than he did on day one of their estrangement. That’s important, because Merlin suddenly realized mid-week that this wasn’t at all like the three weeks that Arthur spent in Paris, namely because Merlin’s thoughts haven’t revolved around sex.

This fact has forced Merlin to examine his feelings for Arthur more closely. He’s spent some time reviewing the fun and laughter they’ve shared, as well as the moments of ease and quiet companionship. There have been many times since the previous Saturday that Merlin has wished he could call Arthur or at least text him about various moments in his day, because Arthur has already become a large part of his life that he enjoys and even emotionally relies upon. There’s a gaping hole where Arthur should be.

So, Merlin has come to realize that there is much, much more to his relationship with Arthur than the fabulous sex they shared.

Another thing that’s happened is the unexpected visit Merlin had from Gilly the night before. Merlin couldn’t have been more surprised to find the man at his door, because, except for the moments when he discussed past relationships with Will or mulled over them himself during sleepless hours of the night, Merlin hasn’t given Gilly any thought.

What Merlin learned during Gilly’s visit enlightened Merlin even more. Here he had a man standing in front of him that three years ago had meant the world to Merlin; yet in retrospect, those feelings were nothing compared to what Merlin felt for Arthur now. Merlin had been infatuated with Gilly-- no more, no less, and Gilly’s unwillingness to commit had only fed that infatuation.

Still, Merlin couldn’t help but feel a bit badly for Gilly, who seems to have done a lot of maturing during the time they were apart, as well as a good deal of soul-searching. His impassioned plea for Merlin to give them another chance was difficult to turn down, mainly because Merlin knew only too well how much it would hurt.

He has to admit, though, it feels good to close the door there. Further introspection leads Merlin to believe that his other long-term relationship with Ben Stone can be chucked in the category of _big mistakes induced by youth and stupidity_.

What Merlin has gleaned from his unexpected encounter with Nevin is more insightful than anything else, he thinks. Something about the elder Pendragon and his interactions with his partner really disconcerted Merlin during their weekend in Jim’s Beard, and Merlin’s had to spend a good deal of time going over it in his mind during the past week.

First and foremost, Merlin’s compared the whole smelling interaction with Uther to what he’s experienced with Arthur.

Of course, Uther approached Merlin in a clinical sense, but that doesn’t change the fact that the whole ordeal felt intimate and, well, _smarmy_. It’s not as though Merlin entertains any thought of Uther being attracted to Merlin, but the fact is, almost every interaction Merlin’s had with the man, smelling involved or no, has left him feeling uncomfortable and almost cowed.

But Merlin realizes now that Arthur has never made him feel that way, not even that day in the gym when Merlin didn’t know Arthur from Adam. Undercurrents in Arthur’s personality, as well as snippets Merlin's caught of phone conversations, lead Merlin to believe that Arthur can be just as ruthless and intimidating as his father where business matters are concerned, but Arthur has never given Merlin any reason to think that Arthur would act that way where Merlin is concerned.

Talking with Nevin has made Merlin stop and take another look at the relationship between the two older men and realize that Merlin may have unconsciously transferred some of what he had been feeling about Uther into that aspect of Uther’s life. Now he can see that there is a definite difference between the way Uther acts and reacts in a business sense and the way he acts and reacts to Nevin.

Moreover, Nevin’s words about how Uther’s deep feelings for him put Nevin either ahead of Uther where control is concerned, or at least on an even keel, really drove home; Arthur has never treated Merlin in a way that he shouldn’t have, because Arthur really cares about Merlin. He must.

That brings him to the last bit: the people closet to Arthur say that Arthur has been different with Merlin. Better, happier. Morgana, although obviously protective of her brother and less than happy with Merlin for hurting him, told Merlin to _fix it_ rather than to fuck off, and that could only be because she believes Arthur is better with Merlin than without him.

Finally, Melrin allows himself to think about the sexual aspect of his relationship with Arthur. There is no doubt that Merlin has never had such intense experiences and overwhelming reactions as he’s had with Arthur Pendragon in the bedroom. He’s never been with someone before who has made him let go of his reserve in the way that Arthur has, and Merlin has never had so many erections and such a quick recovery time in his life. The sex is phenomenal, there’s no doubt about that, and Arthur’s odd attraction to Merlin’s scent has been a definite aphrodisiac.

Merlin lies back on the couch, closing his eyes, and recalls how he asked Arthur if he could fuck him, and Arthur had willingly acquiesced, admitting that he’d never bottomed before. Merlin realizes now what a monumental gesture that must have been for Arthur, as well as one more bit of proof that Merlin means something special to him.

Merlin takes a deep, cleansing breath. He finds himself more confident than he had at the beginning of the week, and even more determined to win Arthur back. The question remains, how?

Rather than ring Gwen, Merlin picks up mobile and phones Will. Then he drags his tired bones off the couch and heads over there.

 

Will and Freya haven’t even tried to disguise the fact that Merlin is interrupting a night of shagging. Freya’s small frame is engulfed in Will’s shirt, and Will seems to have only just pulled on a pair of track pants.

“God, Merlin, couldn’t this have waited?” Will asks grouchily, leading Merlin into the small flat.

“No, sorry, but it couldn’t.” He smiles apologetically at Freya, who is perched on the couch eating a banana. “Sorry, Freya. Really. I’m sure this only makes me look more self-involved, but I’ve just spent the week away from Arthur, reviewing every aspect of our relationship, and I’m determined to win him back and prove that I’m not a total wanker, no  matter how long it takes. Can you please, _please_ tell me how I can do that?”  
“Why me?” Freya blinks, putting the banana peel on the table and unwinding her bare legs from the sofa.

“Because you have an in. I need to see Arthur, and I know he won’t see me. Hell, I don’t even have his mobile number anymore. Is there any way you can work it so that I can have access to Arthur long enough to work some magic on him?” Seeing Freya’s doubt, Merlin agitatedly runs his fingers through his hair and begins to pace the room. Will stands near the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching him.

“God, Frey, please think of something so we can get him out of here,” he groans after Merlin’s fifth circuit around the room.

Freya nibbles at the nail of her index finger, frowning deeply. “Wait!” she suddenly says, sitting upright. “Merlin, Will says you’re a massage therapist?”

Merlin stops, nodding his head.

A sly smile pulls at Freya’s lips. “I think I have the perfect idea, then.” She rises and gets her mobile out of her purse as Merlin’s eyes meet Will’s and the latter shrugs.

“With Morgana’s help, I’m going to get you into Pendragon Perfumes, Merlin. You’re going to be seeing a lot of Arthur in the coming weeks,” Freya promises.


	13. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not trying to make Arthur have super-human smell, lol. Hope that one bit's believable.

 

On Saturday Merlin orders two dozen red roses and has them sent to Arthur’s flat with a note that simply says, _Thinking about you all the time, M._ He doesn’t expect any kind of answer, and he doesn’t get one.

On Sunday, he waits patiently outside Arthur’s building, nursing a cup of coffee, until Arthur comes out for his morning jog. Arthur stands by the bench, stretching his muscles, and when Merlin nears, he stops, body stilling, before turning around slowly to face him.

“Merlin,” he says quietly.

“How did you know it was me?” Merlin asks. _Fuck._ It physically hurts to be so close to Arthur and not be able to touch him.

Arthur is visibly uncomfortable. “The breeze—“ he turns bright pink. “I smelled you.”

Merlin can’t help it; he smiles widely because _damn,_ Arthur recognizes his scent! And Arthur is so damn cute when he’s embarrassed.

Arthur’s eyes sweep over Merlin, making him glad that he took extra pains when dressing that morning, before settling on Merlin’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asks warily.

“I just needed to see you,” Merlin tells him honestly. “I’ve stayed away all week, trying to work things out in my head, but fuck…I just really needed to see you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s quiet a moment, his blue eyes stormy and unreadable as he takes a breath and finally says, “Thanks for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome. I wondered if you’d throw them out.”  
Arthur shakes his head. “No, I didn’t.”

Merlin shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Arthur, I’ve been really stupid. I know that. Would you please give us another chance?”  
“I can’t,” Arthur says, taking a step away and looking around as though trying to find something to rest his attention on. “I just can’t, Merlin.”

“But why can’t you?” Merlin watches the cool morning breeze ruffle Arthur’s hair. A car whizzes by, leaving the smell of exhaust in its wake. “Arthur, it was one argument, and yeah, I know I was a jerk, but why can’t we talk this out?”  
Arthur shakes his head. “It just isn’t that easy. I have to go.” He meets Merlin’s eyes again, and Merlin can see the sadness in Arthur’s. He reaches out and touches Arthur’s arm, but Arthur jerks away as though he’s been burnt.

“Don’t. Just don’t. I’ve got to go.” He turns and slowly takes off running.

“I’m not giving up that easily, Arthur!” Merlin calls after him. “Because you’re worth it. _We’re_ worth it.”

He watches Arthur go until he’s just a speck far, far down the street, more determined than ever.

 

 

Merlin feels better after that encounter. He could tell Arthur was deeply affected by seeing him, and Merlin knows he can win Arthur back if he just has patience. Freya calls and tells him it’s a go at Pendragon, and Merlin makes arrangements for another massage therapist to take over his clients for a few weeks.

“I’m proud of you, padawan,” Gwen tells him on the phone Sunday night after Merlin fills her in. “You’ve taken things into your own hands like a real grown up. I probably wouldn’t have had any better idea than flowers and a visit anyway. Plus, you made it through your week of contemplation.”  
“Thanks, Gwen,” Merlin flops down on his bed with a sigh. “It was hard, but it really did help. I figured a lot of things out, actually, and I’m going to make sure that Arthur knows how serious I am about him. It won’t be easy, but I’m doing it.”

“Good luck,” Gwen tells him sincerely. “Anything worth having is worth working for.”

“I know,” Merlin thanks her again before ending the call.

He sleeps fitfully, and arrives at Pendragon Perfumes bright and early Monday morning. Morgana meets him in the lobby and takes care of the necessary paperwork to get him a nametag and a key card. Then she escorts him to the fifth floor.

“I really appreciate your doing this,” Merlin tells her.

“Just don’t make me regret it,” Morgana says firmly, high heels clicking on the parquet flooring as they walk. “You have approximately a month, and then you’re on your own.” She shows him to the lift and pushes the button for the fifth floor. “Of course, you’re technically on your own _now_. I mean, I got you in, but everything else is up to you.” The doors open and they continue down the crimson-carpeted hall, Merlin glancing at the fancy artwork lining the walls. When they reach the glass double doors leading to the employee spa facilities, Morgana uses her key card and they’re admitted.

“This is Sophia, our receptionist,” she introduces Merlin to the baby-faced blonde woman behind the S-shaped counter.

“Hi,” Merlin extends his hand, “I’m Merlin.”

“Really? Cool name.” Sophia shakes his hand. “So you’re the massage therapist?” She smiles brightly. “Ms. Pendragon, how did you pull this one off? I thought we had to make do with the massage chairs.”

“It’s a temporary experiment,” Morgana tells her. “We’ll see how it goes.” She leads Merlin into a room set up very similarly to the one at his shop. The only difference is that the oils are all made by _Pendragon_ , and there are several large framed posters of various fragrances on the walls. He also notices that all the plush, rolled towels have a gold P embroidered on them.

Merlin picks up one of the oils and holds it to his nose. It’s jasmine, and smells quite lovely. He has to wear gloves when he uses the scented oils due to his allergies, but he enjoys the fragrances when they are true to nature and not overly heavy. He puts the bottle back. “Nice,” he says, and Morgana smiles. “I’m sure you’ll be bombarded with employees who want to take advantage of this. I’m not at all sure how you’re going to have time to woo my brother."

“I’ll manage,” Merlin tells her. “Of course, it would help if you could get him down here for a massage.”

“Arthur?” Morgana laughs. “No way.”

“I’ve given him a couple,” Merlin tells her.

“I’ll just bet you have,” she says slyly and winks at him. Merlin finds himself blushing.

“I have to get to work, but I plan on sending Arthur’s PA down for a massage this morning. That ought to get the word out. There are some scrubs in the closet with our logo on them. Wear them when you’re here, along with the nametag. Keep your key card with you at all times. The cafeteria’s on the bottom floor, and there’s a coffee lounge on floor two near my office. Arthur’s and Father’s offices are on that floor, too. Ciao!”

“Thanks again, Morgana,” Merlin calls to her as she bustles away. He turns to the closet and finds the folded scrubs. They’re gold with a scarlet P on the pocket beside a small embroidered perfume bottle. He changes in the bathroom before surveying the massage facility more closely, making sure he knows where everything is. There’s a cd player and speaker system, and Merlin makes a mental note to bring his own cds the next day. For now he selects something mellow.

It isn’t long before Leon appears, looking extremely out of his element. “Oh my God, Merlin!” Leon exclaims when he sees him. “Does Arthur know you’re our new massage therapist?”

“Not yet,” Merlin tells him. “Go on in there and get undressed, then get on the table with the towel over you.” He hands Leon the towel. “I’ll be back in when you’re ready.”

Leon’s face goes from pink to a deep rose. “Oh, um, so you’re really going to give me a massage?”

“Yes,” Merlin tells him, “and you’re going to love it.”


	14. First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got side-tracked this morning and couldn't get this finished before work. Thanks again for all the sweet comments!

 

When Merlin has Leon ready and on his table, he begins the massage. Leon’s asked for him not to use oil, so Merlin massages him bare-handed, concentrating on what he’s doing rather than the persistent knocking of his heart in his chest that he’s had ever since he fully realized he and Arthur are under the same roof.

“Merlin,” Leon says after a few initial grunts as his muscles loosen under Merlin’s hands, “I don’t understand why you’re here.”

Merlin sighs. “It’s a crazy idea, I guess, but I wanted to be close to Arthur because I really botched things between us, and Freya offered me a way through Morgana. Evidently, _Pendragon’s_ been playing with the idea of having an in-house masseur, and I’m here for a trial run.” Merlin pauses a moment. “Has Arthur said anything to you, Leon? About me?”

Leon clears his throat. “I’m not at liberty to say, Merlin.”

“I guess that’s a yes, then,” Merlin replies, moving down to Leon’s right leg and kneading the thigh. “Any words of advice?”

Leon doesn’t speak right away, and Merlin continues his ministrations in silence.

“If you’re serious Merlin, really serious about Arthur…”

“I am, Leon.” Merlin has to try very hard not to take his frustration out on Leon’s leg.

Leon pauses. “Merlin, I do think you and Arthur are good together, at least from what I’ve seen. Arthur really…well, for lack of a better term, _blossomed_ when he was with you. But you don’t know what it cost him to open up to you. Just—just please don’t pursue this unless you’re absolutely serious and want to stay with him.”

Merlin’s heart squeezes painfully, and he once again wonders what Arthur was like before Merlin met him. “You don’t have to worry, Leon,” he says quietly. “But could you do me a favor?”

“Depends,” Leon replies, moving his head to look up at Merlin over his shoulder.

“Could you just not mention to Arthur yet that I’m here at _Pendragon_?”

Leon lays his face back in the padded rest. “I suppose I can do that, although he’s bound to find out soon enough.”

“I know. I’d just like to see what he’s like when I’m not around.” 

As soon as there’s a lull in clients, Merlin hangs out a bit with Sophia, whom he soon discovers loves to talk. She waxes poetic on the subject of Arthur. 

“I would dearly love to shag that man, but I hear he’s gay, unfortunately,” Sophia sighs, after she tells Merlin how good Arthur looks in his little black bathing trunks when he gets into the sauna.

Merlin bites his tongue on all the remarks he’d like to make, such has how awesome Arthur’s bare arse looks on his massage table, and how his abs seemed to be made for the tip of Merlin’s tongue to trace. Instead, he casually asks Sophia what Arthur’s like as a person.

“Well, I wouldn’t know that,” Sophia says, running the nail file across her thumb nail. “He rarely speaks to me, other than to tell me something’s amiss in the sauna or steam bath.” She shrugs. “He’s polite, of course. Always gives me a nod when he comes in and goes out. He never yells at me or anything, even that time I forgot to stock fresh towels when he brought those execs in from Japan. But he’s not much on smiling or joking around, that one. He’s all business except when that sister of his makes him come in here and take it easy, or when he’s escorting clients like those foreign blokes.”

Merlin’s shocked by her words. To him, Arthur’s always been open and friendly. They’ve shared many a laugh between them, and Arthur’s often been the one to initiate the cutting up.

Sophia’s watching him, and she rushes to say, “Oh, don’t get me wrong and think he’s a bad fellow! I think that’s just the way things are done here. His father’s always been that way, and Arthur has to follow suit. And I get the feeling he doesn't have much of a social life. He practically lives at the office.”

A man walks in at that moment, and Sophia straightens up, storing her nail file in the drawer. “Hi, Sam. On your break?”  
“Yeah,” the man replies, glancing at Merlin. “I’m having a hellava day, and I heard there’s a guy giving massages down here.”

“That would be me,” Merlin smiles. “Would you like one?”

The man sighs gratefully. “That sounds heavenly after the morning I’ve had.” He follows Merlin into the other room and immediately slips behind the screen and begins stripping. “God, the boss hasn’t let up on me since I walked in this morning, and I’ve got a knot the size of Ireland at the base of my neck.”

He saunters out, towel wrapped around his thick waist, and hops onto the table.

“Oil?” Merlin offers, turning to the shelves.

“Er, yeah, I like a musk, if you’ve got it.”

Merlin selects one and puts on his gloves before uncorking it.

By the time Merlin has turned around, Sam is spread out on the table, and Merlin adjusts the towel to cover his rather prominent bum. While he works, Sam keeps talking.

“Pendragon obviously thinks I’m his slave or something, because he never gives me a minute to breathe.”

“Looks like you’re taking a break now,” Merlin observes, beginning to work on the man’s beefy shoulders.

“Well, yeah, oof! That’s the spot! Yeah, he’s gotta give me a break by law, hasn’t he? Otherwise he wouldn’t. It’s paperwork all day, and ‘Sam do this, Sam get that.’ And never cracking a smile or nothing. Ah! Right there. That muscle’s sore, mate.”

Merlin works the area for a moment, thinking over what Sam’s said. “This is the younger Pendragon you’re talking about, right?”

“Oh, yeah. The old man rarely darkens the door, but when he does, watch out. Things had better be ship shape. Ech! That’s good, there, yeah. Hmm… He expects a lot out of those kids, that’s for sure. As much as they get under my skin, I have to have a bit of sympathy for ‘em. The only time you ever see the old guy soften is when his partner’s with him, and by partner I mean gay lover," Sam clarifies. "It’s like night and day when he’s around. You’ve never see a man so whipped.”

“That in love, is he?” Merlin asks, knowing full well the answer.

“I suppose that’s what you’d call it. Anyhow, maybe that’s what the young one needs, because he’s following right in daddy’s footsteps. He’s been even worse than usual this past week. Hey, ain't it funny how both he and his old man are poofs? Must be in the genes.”

Merlin just hums, running his fingers down the man’s arm.

“Ach, anyway, the young one, Arthur, he's just acting like a bear. You can’t say anything right to him lately. Bit my head off the other day just because I asked if I could take a little extra time for lunch, and me mum was in town! Ah, that’s good. You’re magic with your hands, you know that? That your real name on your tag, or a nick name?”

“It's my real name,” Merlin says easily as he continues to work the man over. When he’s finished, Sam practically oozes off the table.

“Wish I had time for a nap, now!” he says to Merlin. “Thanks for that! Talk about boosting company morale.” He whistles as he dresses behind the screen.

“I expect that’s the point,” Merlin answers, stripping off his gloves and throwing them in the trash. “Have a good day, Sam.”

“You, too, Merlin.” Sam chuckles before peeking around the screen and adding, “Guess you do live up to your name, huh?”

Merlin smiles. He decides to head down to the cafeteria, but before he does, he calls the florist on the corner and asks them to deliver a bouquet of white daisies to Arthur’s office with a note saying, _You light up my life._

He knows it’s cheesy, but it’s the way he feels, and every second that ticks by when Merlin can’t at least talk to Arthur is pure torture.

The cafeteria is crowded, and Merlin has to wait in line. He keeps a look out for Arthur, because he’d like to avoid him for a while if possible, although Sophia and Sam have given Merlin a pretty good idea of what Arthur’s like at work. He has a feeling that when Arthur finds out that Merlin’s working at _Pendragon_ , he’s not going to be happy, and Merlin would like to put the confrontation off a while. He decides he’s probably safe because Arthur’s the type to eat at his desk or skip lunch altogether. He gets a tray and grabs a salad and some green gelatin, and makes his way over to a table in the corner. He eats quickly with his head down, occasionally catching pieces of conversation drifting from other tables. When he hears two men dressed in suits and a woman wearing a lab coat talking about the delicious way Arthur’s arse moves in his dress pants, Merlin seriously wants to throw something at them. Then he hears the woman say, “I expect Cenred will know just exactly how juicy that arse is after tonight.”

Merlin’s fork stills mid-way to his mouth, a piece of whitish lettuce dangling perilously at the end of it.

The taller man at the table chuckles. “I can’t believe Arthur finally gave in and said he’d go out with him! How long’s Cen been trying?”

“Maybe Arthur’s in need of a good shag,” the short, bald bloke with a ginger beard replies.” Hope it puts a smile on his face, much as I enjoy the pout.”

Merlin drops his fork with a clatter and stands up, all thoughts of avoiding Arthur gone from his mind. He makes his way to the lifts, his destination the second floor executive offices.


	15. The Other Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got interrupted again this morning, but managed a small installment. It's Friday! Hurray!

 The fucking lift can’t move fast enough. It’s only two floors, but some idiot with a cart full of papers gets on and then immediately gets off again, and Merlin is ready to scream by the time the doors slide open to reveal the shining tile and mirrored walls of the second floor. He passes an office with Morgana’s name on it before he reaches the CEO suite and barrels his way in, ready to confront whomever he needs to in order to see Arthur. The reception desk is empty, however, and the door to an inner office stands ajar.

Merlin glances at the other office door, which is closed and bears Uther’s name, then takes a step forward when he hears movements from the open room. He’s about to reach out and push the door when someone comes in from the hall. When Merlin sees it’s a delivery man with the flowers Merlin ordered for Arthur, he takes a step back around a corner and out of sight to wait.

Muffled talking and the distinct sound of Arthur’s voice, followed by the delivery man’s retreating footsteps, and Merlin steps back out, peering around the corner of the office door. Arthur is in profile, and Merlin pauses to watch as Arthur takes the card from the flowers and opens it. A small smile flickers on his handsome features followed by a look of pain that flies straight to Merlin’s heart. He knows then that he would do anything to erase that pain, and he’s ready to step forward when Arthur’s office telephone rings.

Merlin inwardly curses and waits, retreating once more into the shadows.

“Arthur Pendragon. What? No, I told you it would have to be finished by this afternoon, and I meant it. See that you do.” He hangs up.

Merlin doesn’t have a chance to move before the door to the suite opens again and someone steps through. The man is quite tall, several inches taller than Merlin, and dressed in a well-cut grey suit that to Merlin’s eye looks very expensive. He has brown hair that’s slicked back from his angular face and secured in a short ponytail at the nape, a goatee, and eyes the color of dark chocolate. Merlin thinks he’s handsome in a cruel kind of way, and Merlin instinctively dislikes him on sight. He wants to talk to Arthur, but he wants to talk to him alone, and he hopes this man will hurry with whatever he needs.

“Arthur?” the man says when he reaches the door, his solicitous and caring tone in no way matching the hard expression that Merlin saw on his face only seconds before.

Merlin moves slightly so that he can peer through a chink in the blinds covering an inner window to Arthur’s office. Arthur has placed the bouquet of daises on a long mahogany side table, and he turns to look at the man who has entered his office.

“Hi,” Arthur says, his voice neutral.

“Oh, flowers? So I have some competition? I would have chosen irises or perhaps lilies.”

“Of course you would, because you’re terribly unoriginal,” Arthur surprises Merlin by saying.

“That’s not a very nice way to speak to your date for the evening,” the man’s smile is almost leering, and Merlin’s heart speeds up at the realization that this man must be Cenred.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur replies in a clipped tone. “We’re going out for a drink, Cen. It isn’t a date.”

Cenred pretends to pout, and it isn’t attractive. At least Merlin doesn’t think it is. It looks ridiculous. Merlin clenches his fist and waits for the man to speak.

“Arthur, don’t be like that. I finally get you to go out with me, and you won’t even let me enjoy the victory.”

“Stop flirting,” Arthur tells him with a cool impatience as he retrieves a file from a drawer. “It’s silly and unattractive.”

Cenred laughs suddenly and heartily. “I must say, you are a very disagreeable man, Arthur Pendragon. I don’t know why you make my pants so tight.”

Merlin grits his teeth, his eyes narrowing.

“I expect it’s because I’m not falling all over you,” Arthur answers glibly. “What do you want, anyway?”

“I want you to go out to lunch with me.” Cenred slips onto the corner of Arthur’s desk, where Arthur has seated himself and begun shuffling papers.

“Sorry, I’ve eaten already.”

“Liar. You haven’t left this office.” Cenred cocks his head to the side, and Merlin really hates the way he’s looking at Arthur like he wants to lick him all over. “Well, if you won’t eat, how about nicking down to the spa with me? I heard your sister’s got a masseur there.”

Merlin sees Arthur’s jaw tighten. “I don’t like massages. That was a silly idea of Morgana’s—what do we need the employees going to get massages for?”

“It’s relaxing,” Cenred answers, his voice lowering to something resembling a purr. “You’re so uptight, you could use one. Have you ever had a massage, Arthur? They’re very enjoyable.”

Arthur turns his face away from Cenred, but Merlin can see the crease between his brows, and it’s heartbreaking knowing that Arthur is thinking of the times Merlin massaged him. He wants to go to him. He wants to walk in, shove Cenred off the desk and onto his arse, and pull Arthur into his arms. But the notion’s ridiculous. Arthur would probably deck him.

Thankfully, Cenred stands. “Well, if you refuse to talk to me, I’ll see you tonight.” He leans toward Arthur where he’s begun keying something into the computer, putting his mouth quite close to Arthur’s ear. Whatever he says makes Arthur stiffen in his seat and glare over his shoulder at Cenred’s back as he leaves the office laughing merrily.

Arthur presses his lips together before rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.

Merlin isn’t sure what to do. He’d come in there ready to burst into Arthur’s office and demand that he tell him what the hell he’s doing, planning on going out with someone when Merlin loves him and so desperately wants him back. He knows it wasn’t a very good plan, but it was the only one he had, and the thought of just standing back while Arthur allows someone else to touch him in any way is simply out of the question. Now, looking at Arthur’s obvious dislike for Cenred, Merlin isn’t sure what to think or to do.

Added to that is the fact that Merlin is fairly sure that Cenred is headed upstairs for a massage. Biting his lip, Merlin decides to head that way.

Merlin isn’t looking forward to massaging Cenred, but he _is_ looking forward to hearing what the man has to say. He seems the sort who likes to talk, particularly about themselves.


	16. Lesson Learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying your comments as always. Hope I've retained my original readers. <3

“My, my!” Cendred smiles predatorily when Merlin enters the massage room to find the man already perched on his table, “aren’t you a nice addition to the Pendragon team?” He looks at Merlin’s name tag. “Merlin, eh? I love it! Work some of your magic on me, Merlin! I have a terrible pain just below my groin area.”

Merlin barely resists rolling his eyes. “Let’s begin with you on your stomach, shall we?”

Cenred obediently gets into position, not being very careful about how he drapes the towel. He ends up with most of his arse revealed, and Merlin quickly and efficiently covers it up.

“I’m not modest,” Cenred tells him. “You can get rid of the towel if it’s in the way.”

“No need,” Merlin assures him. “Oil?”

“Yes. The more the better. Unscented, though.”

“I had you pegged as an oily sort the moment I laid eyes on you,” Merlin says dryly, selecting a bottle from the shelf.

Cenred hums noncommittally as Merlin begins the massage. “A little harder,” he says. “I have a hot date tonight and want to be very limber.”

Merlin gladly gets rougher, putting all of his strength into manipulating Cenred’s muscles, pulling various grunts and groans out of his throat. Merlin can tell it’s starting to really hurt, but the man’s too proud to say anything about it, and Merlin smiles to himself.

Merlin massages for a while in silence, trying not to think about anything at all.

“So you say you need to be limber tonight?” Merlin finally asks casually, digging his fingers into the base of Cenred’s spine with unnecessary force.

“Ye-ep,” Cenred grunts. “I have a hot date, and I’ve been waiting for this a long…uh! time.”

Merlin clenches his teeth and rubs harder. Cenred is well built, and appears to have a spray-on tan. He also has a very hairy arse. Merlin wonders why Arthur is going out with him at all, the guy is just so smarmy.

“A lovely lady?” Merlin asks, putting his weight into things and forcing a grunt out of Cenred.

“No, no, I swing the other way, mate. Couldn’t you tell by all the flirting I was doing with-yoou? Ouch!”

“Sorry. Oh, were you flirting? I didn’t notice. Flip over.”

Cenred readily turns over, and Merlin makes sure to hold the towel up so he doesn’t get flashed.

“Yeah, well, I have a date with the sexiest bloke you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s a bit stand-offish, but that’s a challenge. I’m thinking he’s going to be a bossy bottom.”

Merlin makes a face. Cenred is truly loathsome, and the way he’s talking about Arthur has Merlin wanting to break the arse’s legs.

“Upper right thigh’s where I pulled the muscle. I was playing a bit of basketball—ow, fuck! Watch it!”

“Did that hurt? Sorry,” Merlin murmurs unrepentantly.

“God, watch it, or I won’t be able to perform tonight, if you know what I mean.”

Merlin swallows an expletive and continues massaging. Cenred focuses his gaze on the ceiling, and starts talking about how eager he is to get this guy into bed. Merlin’s seeing red by this time, and he can’t control his reactions. He knows he’s being far rougher than he should be, but Cenred’s such a dickhead, and he’s talking about _Arthur._

“Ouch! Fuck, man, where’d you learn to massage, the marines?” Cenred sits up. “That’s enough.”

Merlin backs off, biting the inside of his mouth so as not to voice a few choice words. He busies himself tidying up until Cenred is out of the room, and then begins cursing under his breath.

“Merlin!”

Merlin jumps at the sound of Arthur’s voice behind him, dropping a bottle of oil onto the floor where it shatters. He turns to find Arthur standing just inside the door, his face angrier than Merlin’s ever seen it.

“So it’s true…you’re the new masseur!” Arthur exclaims, cheeks red with ire.

“On a trial run,” Merlin tells him, grabbing a towel and wiping the oil off his hands before throwing it down to cover the slippery pool on the tiles.

“But why? How?”

“Um. Well, I kind of arranged it through Freya and Morgana. I wanted to be near you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyes widen and his back stiffens. “What do you mean…were you even going to tell me you’re here? I heard your name and knew there couldn’t be two Merlin’s massaging people in this city!”

“I was going to tell you, yeah, after a bit. I just wanted to get a feel for this part of your life first.” Merlin sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

Arthur folds his arms over his chest, and Merlin can’t help but admire how nice he looks with the sleeves of his white Oxford rolled up to reveal his tanned arms with their corded muscles. “Why in the world would you want to watch me working? And I thought I made myself clear that there’s nothing between us any longer.”

Merlin gives his head a small shake. “I want to know everything about you, Arthur. And _of course_ there’s still something between us. Even if you don’t want there to be.” The words sound a bit pathetic to Merlin's ears, but they're true.

Arthur’s eyes waver and he uncrosses his arms, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his blue Armani slacks. “This is utterly ridiculous. You shouldn’t be here. I’m going to speak to Morgana about this. I can’t believe she went behind my back!”

“Don’t be angry with her. She only agreed to let me be the masseur for the trial run they were already planning for the spa. Everything else was up to me.” Merlin steps over the glass and gets closer to Arthur. “I’ve missed you. So much. Are you really going to go have drinks with that horrible arse Cenred?”

Arthur blinks. “How did you know that?”

“The rumor mill here is active, plus I just gave him a massage. He’s a tosser, Arthur. Even if you don’t want me, you can do far better than that lizard.”

Arthur’s eyes briefly hold amusement, as though he agrees with Merlin’s choice of moniker. Then he looks away, the muscle in his jaw working. “It’s only drinks.”

“Not in Cenred’s mind. He’s got you relegated to bossy bottom.”

Arthur’s mouth falls open. “Why, that—“

“I know!” Merlin says. He reaches out and touches Arthur’s arm, rubbing the skin gently. “Arthur, I’m so, so sorry I hurt you.”

Arthur steps away. “I have to get back to work.”

“Arthur, please…” but he’s already gone.

 

In the days to come, Merlin has to wonder if he was crazy to think working at Pendragon would help him at all. Being so close to Arthur is more torturous than anything else since Arthur won’t come near him. Merlin’s seen enough to know how closed-off and inaccessible Arthur is to other people, and it’s got him reeling over the fact that somehow, some way, Merlin had initially been able to get through all that. Before, of course, ultimately crapping all over it and flushing it down the loo, sending Arthur back into his impossible-to-crack shell.

One thing Merlin’s accomplished, though, that he definitely doesn’t regret is apparently opening Arthur’s eyes to Cenred, since Arthur never went with him for drinks or anything else. Although Cenred isn’t likely to show up on Merlin’s table again after the violent massage he received, Merlin’s heard it through the ever-active company grapevine that Arthur told Cenred off quite publicly and vociferously sometime after speaking with Merlin that afternoon. It isn’t as though Merlin thinks Arthur ever particularly cared for Cenred, but Arthur might have had a small hope that Cenred thought of him as more than a tempting challenge, and Merlin’s sure it stings.

He’s beginning to see why Arthur doesn’t open himself up more. Most of _Pendragon Perfumes_ either sees him as a handsome, rich target or a difficult, domineering boss. No one seems to know him as the wonderful, giving man that Arthur really is, and it’s really no wonder that Arthur chooses not to show them that side of him.

So the victory about Cenred is a hollow one. When Merlin sees Arthur looking so grim and alone in the hallway, he aches for Arthur, and wishes he could just think of some way to get through to him again.

“Two weeks,” Merlin says to Gwen on his mobile during a break at work. He’s walked to a deli around the corner from the offices and sits eating his lunch on a park bench in the sun. “I hardly ever see Arthur. All I do is massage people, back to back. I’ve never felt so many stressful shoulders in my life, and their incessant talking about nothing gives me a headache.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” Gwen says dolefully. “I wish I could think of something that would help, but it looks like tokens of affection aren’t going to get you anywhere at this point, and if Arthur is unwilling to talk to you, you can’t force yourself on him.”

“I can’t even get within ten feet of him,” Merlin says. “I’m too busy, and when he’s not in meetings, Arthur’s always in his office. He’s not going to come down for a massage, that’s for sure.” Merlin’s left Arthur a couple of notes, which he hopes that Arthur’s read and not immediately thrown away. Merlin sweated over what to write on each one, but they basically just tell Arthur something about him that Merlin truly loves and appreciates. He wonders if Arthur ever gets that sort of thing in his life. Everything at Pendragon seems so plastic and unreal to Merlin. The people he gets on his table talk about things that shouldn’t matter, such as whether or not they will be able to get reservations at an upscale restaurant, or gain entrance into a certain club. One lady spent the entire time talking about her dog’s pedigree. They make Merlin sick, every one of them, and he finds himself wishing that he could take Arthur away from it all somehow. He’d like to get a bungalow on some far away beach and live there with Arthur forever, spending all their time picking up shells, laughing, and making love. He’d like to see Arthur smiling his beautiful smile all the time.

The thought makes Merlin so sad, he ends the call with Gwen and sits staring at nothing for the rest of his lunch break.

He’s tired. He thinks that it’s time that he got back to his regular life. Being at Pendragon has served its purpose—Merlin now has some insight into Arthur, as painful as it is. But there’s no use in Merlin continuing on there, making his hands ache massaging out the aches and pains that come from sitting in front of a computer too long or dancing the night away at some club. He needs to get back to his customers with real physical issues.

He wads up his trash and throws it into the bin before standing and heading back.

He’ll go to Morgana and tell her he can’t finish out the trial.


	17. Eau de Merlin

Merlin doesn’t get a chance to talk to Morgana because he’s hijacked by Leon the moment he enters the building.

“There you are,” Leon says, taking Merlin by the arm and hustling him onto the lift. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Uther wants to see you.”

“Uther?” Merlin asks, watching Leon push the button for the second floor. “But he’s never here!”

“He’s here now, and he came specifically to talk to you. Where have you been, anyway?”

  
“Having lunch around the corner. Why does he want to see me?” Merlin’s thoughts are jumping all over the place. Is Uther angry that Merlin’s working at Pendragon? That’s doubtful, since Merlin’s been there for two weeks, and Uther had to sign off on it. Also, having a masseur in the spa has been a real success, according to Morgana.

Uther couldn’t be angry because Merlin’s leaving before the trial’s up, because Merlin only just decided to do it ten minutes ago; and Uther isn’t psychic, as far as Merlin knows.

He fidgets until the lift doors open and then follows Leon into the executive suite and through it into Uther’s private offices.

Merlin’s surprised to find Arthur standing by Uther’s desk, looking decidedly uncomfortable. There are a few other men, as well as a woman, seated on the long, black leather sofa.

Uther stands when Merlin enters the room, and Leon leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Merlin! So nice to see you again,” Uther greets him, coming around his massive mahogany desk to shake his hand. Merlin smiles and makes pleasantries, trying and failing to meet Arthur’s eyes as he does so. Uther introduces the other people in the room as various members of the board at Pendragon, but Merlin only catches the last two names, Owain Towers and Morgause Malone.

“If this is about the position of spa masseur,” Merlin states hesitantly, “I have to say that I’ve decided that working here is not for me.” Merlin catches Arthur’s surprised expression out of the corner of his eye and turns to look at him, but Arthur’s already averted his gaze back to his expensive leather shoes.

Uther laughs. “What? No, no, although Morgana tells me that having you here has been a rousing success. What I’ve asked to see you about has to do with the new scent I’m developing.”

Merlin raises his brows. “Oh?” He can’t imagine where this is leading.

There’s a knock at the door, and before anyone can move toward it, Nevin slips in. “Sorry I’m late,” he smiles at Uther. “Hello, everyone. Hello, Merlin.” He gives Merlin a smile and a nod.

Uther turns to Nevin. “I was just about to fill Merlin in.” He looks at Merlin again. “When you visited the house in Jim’s Beard with us, you inspired me, did Arthur tell you?”

  
Merlin glances at Arthur, who is still staring at the floor, his hands behind his back.

“Um, not exactly,” Merlin replies.

Uther gives a huff and sends an exasperated look toward his son. “Well, you did. I began working on something immediately, and it’s in the beginning stages in the lab. I wonder if you would accompany us there now.”

Merlin frowns, confused. “I don’t understand.”

Uther puts his arm out, herding the board members toward the door, which Nevin opens for them. “Perhaps Arthur will explain it to you on the way up.”

Merlin steps back, waiting for everyone to pass before he falls into step with Arthur, who looks decidedly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says, as they walk.

“For what?” Merlin asks. “Just exactly what’s going on?”

  
“Father’s working on a new cologne based on your scent,” Arthur tells him, then winces slightly at Merlin’s exclamation.

“What? My _scent_? You’ve got to be kidding me! Your father sniffed me that one time, and now he’s making a _cologne_?” This is so surreal, Merlin can't even stop to appreciate the fact that Arthur is willingly talking to him.

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Arthur tells him, directing Merlin toward a second set of elevators so they won’t have to ride with the group. “He’s stubborn, though, and thoroughly engaged in this. He wants you to sign a contract giving permission to use you as his inspiration, including your name. He wants to call the cologne _Merlin_.”

“Oh, my God,” Merlin says, shaking his head. He can’t believe this is happening. "Arthur, I don’t smell that amazing. I’m just a regular person. This is crazy!”

The lift doors close on them. “You don’t understand how inspiration works for us, Merlin. You do have a certain scent, and it’s quite…alluring.” Arthur’s cheeks color. “But it’s important that you understand you are under no duress to do this. You can say no.”

Merlin looks at him. “What do you want me to do?

Arthur frowns, looking away.

“Arthur?”

“I know this makes you very uncomfortable.”

“Arthur,” Merlin persists, “do you want me to give your father permission to make this cologne?”

Arthur drags his eyes to meet Merlin’s, and the vulnerability in their depths scorch Merlin down to his soul. “I wouldn’t ask. It’s just…he’s so excited about it. He’s had a bit of a dry spell lately. It’s been ages since he’s come into the office.”

Arthur doesn’t need to ask. After seeing him open himself to Merlin again like that, Merlin would willingly throw himself on a sword for him, much less be a sniffing tool for Uther Pendragon. He shrugs. “Then I’ll do it.”

  
Arthur looks shocked. “But…”

“No buts. I’ll do it.”

  
“He might ask you to—“

“I don’t care, Arthur. If you want me to do it, I will.”

The doors open, and the rest of the group stands outside the lab.

“Are you sure?” Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s, and Merlin’s heart knocks painfully in his chest.

“Yes, Arthur. I’ll sign the papers. Whatever.  You can tell him.”

With an almost-smile, Arthur turns and goes to his father. Then Uther is clamping his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and Nevin’s shaking his hand.

“I’ll have Arthur bring the contract to you later,” Uther tells him. “Shall we?” he opens the door to the lab.

Another surprise is awaiting Merlin in the form of Cenred, who evidently runs the laboratory. He greets Uther and the rest of the board members with a disgusting amount of fawning before turning to Merlin.

“This is Merlin, the gentleman with the extraordinary scent I told you about,” Uther tells Cenred and his assistant Phaedra, an older woman with greying hair and heavy thighs.

“Merlin,” Cenred nods his head, giving no indication to anyone in the room that they’ve met before. He raises his clipboard. “Do you wear any type of cologne or other scent?”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head.

“Even scented deodorant or powder?” Cenred asks, writing hurriedly.

“No. I’m allergic to scents,” Merlin replies, glancing at Arthur, who still looks a little taken aback by Merlin's acquiescence.

“Good, then you won’t have to shower. I’d like you to go behind the curtain and change into the gown I’ve provided.”

Merlin doesn’t much like the sound of that, but he’s promised to do this, so he does as Cenred says, relieved to find that it’s at least a gown with a back. When he returns, he isn’t too surprised to find out that Uther wants his board members to get a whiff of him.

“I am a firm believer in keeping my board involved, so I just want them to experience first-hand the very essence of what will be Pendragon’s new scent, _Merlin._ ”

Merlin thinks he’s truly going to die of embarrassment as each board member steps up and puts their nose to his neck, taking a long pull of air into their nostrils. He concentrates on a picture on the far wall of a butterfly on a flower until the last person steps back. Mostly, he just feels silly, because he’s just sure that every person in that room is thinking that he doesn’t smell special at all and wondering what all the fuss is about.

Then Uther dismisses the board members along with Phaedra, and Merlin can breathe a sigh of relief.

“You understand, Merlin, that we will need to work with you in the lab for a while,” Uther tells him.

“How long?” Merlin asks, not having realized that at all.

“A few months.”

Merlin blinks. “Oh. But I do have clients…my clients at my shop…that I need to get back to.”

“We can work out a schedule,” Uther replies. “Right now, I’d like to spend a few moments with you. I haven’t smelled you again since the first time, and I’m going to be working closely with Cenred in these first stages, if only in the background. I want to make sure that the notes I’ve taken are what I really want to go with.”

Merlin gives a little shrug, trying to feign indifference and comfort where there's only rising panic. “Okay.”

Uther turns to his son. “Arthur, we won’t be needing you, if you’d like to get back to work.”

“I’ll be staying,” Arthur replies, slipping onto a stool at the back of the room. His presence fortifies Merlin’s waning courage, for Uther really has a way of intimidating him, whether intentionally or no.

Uther turns his back on Arthur and his full attention on Merlin, which feels a bit like a mega-watt spot light. “I’d like you to remove the gown,” Uther tells him.

Merlin’s heartbeat picks up. “I don’t have on anything under it.”

“Father…”Arthur says from his corner.

“I would like to smell him thoroughly,” Uther insists. “Arthur, you know what I’m saying as well as why I’m saying it.”

“You’re making him feel like a slave at auction,” Arthur argues.

“There’s only the four of us in the room,” Uther says. “Merlin, are you uncomfortable with this?”

“A bit,” Merlin admits.

“This is purely clinical. For heavens’ sake, where did Nevin go?”

“He’s speaking to someone out in the hall,” Arthur tells him. “Father, go ahead and smell Merlin all you want, but his gown stays on. Nobody enjoys standing around in the nude.”

Uther makes an annoyed grunt, but goes about sniffing Merlin anyway, beginning behind his ear. Merlin keeps his eyes pinned on Arthur’s, finding it’s the only way he can get through this decidedly humiliating experience, particularly when Uther moves farther downward, getting onto his knees on the carpet. Merlin’s eyes widen, but Arthur keeps him grounded with a softness in his expression that warms Merlin’s heart. A connection forms between them until Merlin feels that they’re the only two in the room, and he knows that Arthur feels it, too. It’s so strong that when Uther taps on Merlin’s feet so he’ll lift them, he’s momentarily confused about what’s going on.

When Uther finally finishes, Merlin thinks he can escape, and evidently Arthur thinks so, too, because he gets up off his stool. But then Cenred steps forward, a leer on his face.

“I’d like to know what I’ll be working with, if you don’t mind,” he says, and Uther steps back with a small relinquishing flourish of his hand.

Merlin stiffens a bit as Cenred nuzzles his nose a little too intimately behind Merlin’s ear, running the tip over sensitive skin. “Mmm…decidedly different,” he comments to Uther.

“His muskier odors are especially titillating,” Uther says, stepping forward, and suddenly Arthur is there between them.

“Oh, my God! Father, that’s enough for today! Come, Merlin, you haven’t even signed the contract yet, and they’re ready to squeeze your glands dry.” He snatches Merlin’s hand and begins to tug him away.

“Arthur, my clothes!” he objects, and Arthur makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat before striding behind the screen and grabbing up Merlin’s things.

“You can change in my office,” he says as he urges Merlin out of the lab, a proprietary hand to the small of his back.

 


	18. Whatever You Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, all of you, for letting me know you're reading and enjoying!  
> I don't know if real perfumers do things the way Uther does, but glad you can suspend belief. <3 Some of you may be waiting for this next bit. I honestly don't know if you'd rather me post and write more later or just wait until it's all one bit long bit, but I'm going to go ahead and post this and whet your appetite should you choose to go ahead and read. Because I'm evil.

 

Merlin gets some funny looks walking down the halls of _Pendragon Perfumes_ in a short gown, but he can hardly find the energy to care when it’s Arthur who’s leading him. He’d walk naked with the man if necessary.

In the lift, an older woman seems unable to stop looking at Merlin’s bare legs and feet peeking out from under the gown. Merlin just gives her a crazy smile, and Arthur turns his back like he’s trying to ignore the situation entirely.

Once they reach the executive offices, Leon looks up from his iPhone, lips parted in surprise, but Arthur only breezes past and navigates inside his office, closing the door firmly behind them.

He stands, agitated, and Merlin gently pulls his clothes out of Arthur’s grip. “Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” he says with a cheeky grin. “I felt a bit like an escaped mental patient.”

“I don’t think that signing this contract is a good idea,” Arthur states, moving to put the desk between them. Merlin sets his clothes on the couch and reaches down to pull the gown over his head. Arthur immediately looks away, pinning his gaze on the far wall.

“Arthur, I told you I’m going to do it. It’s fine.” Merlin bends down to find his pants in the jumble of clothing.

“Fine?” Arthur steps around the desk and comes to stand beside Merlin. Merlin can see Arthur’s red tie out of the corner of his eye and he wants to grab it and pull Arthur into his arms. Instead he straightens, meeting Arthur’s gaze. The fact that he’s completely nude and Arthur is completely dressed is erotic to say the least, and the fact that they’re in Arthur’s office only adds to that.

“Merlin, you can’t tell me that you didn’t want to jump out of your skin just now in the lab.”

“I know your father has to sniff at me in order to create his cologne,” Merlin replies with a confidence he doesn’t exactly feel but is pretty sure sounds convincing nonetheless. “I’ll be okay. Having you there really helped.”

“But I won’t always be there, and what about Cenred? I don’t trust him.”

“Yet you were going to go out with the man,” Merlin reminds him a bit testily.

“For drinks,” Arthur rolls his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“And you think I can’t?” Merlin asks. He puts a hand on Arthur’s arm and feels the smallest jolt when he does. “Arthur, why in the hell did you agree to go out with Cenred in the first place?”

Arthur shrugs, looking down, and then thinks better of it and looks back at Merlin, his cheeks flushing. “Maybe you should put your pants on.”

Merlin lets go of Arthur’s arm and steps back, bending over to slip on his boxer briefs. When he rises, Arthur is several feet away, his back turned to Merlin.

“I agreed to go out with Cenred because he’s been asking me to for ages,” Arthur says quietly, surprising Merlin by answering the question at all. “And no, I don’t particularly like him, although I didn’t know he was quite as bad as he is, but I never date, and I just thought I should put myself out there. I hear what people say about me—that I’m cold.”

“You dated me,” Merlin reminds him. “And you are far from cold, Arthur.”

“With you, maybe. It was different with you.”

Arthur’s shoulders slump, and Merlin can’t help himself. He crosses the room and wraps himself around Arthur’s back, holding him tightly. Arthur struggles in his grip at first, but Merlin doesn’t let go, and after a moment, Arthur relaxes into him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Arthur,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s soft hair. “I was scared. What you make me feel is terrifying, but I’d rather be terrified with you than in this miserable hell without you.”

Arthur’s stomach muscles are taut beneath Merlin’s hands and his breathing erratic. Merlin gives Arthur a moment, laying his face against Arthur’s broad shoulders, his cheek resting against the silken material of his suit jacket, and just standing there.

When Arthur speaks, his voice is raspy. “People don’t date me for me,” he says, and Merlin’s heart squeezes in his chest. “They date me for money or prestige or sex. When I asked you to move in with me and you ran…”

“You thought I didn’t care,” Merlin finishes for him, tucking his chin onto Arthur’s shoulder. “But I do care, Arthur. I really, really love you. I was only afraid of giving myself up to you. It was all so overwhelming.”

Arthur sighs, his head falling forward. “Maybe it’s all for the best.”

Unable to believe his ears, Merlin grips Arthur by the shoulders and roughly swings him around. “What in the hell are you talking about?” he demands fiercely into Arthur’s surprised face. “Of course it isn’t for the fucking best! What we have is worth…everything! You stupid prat!”

Swiftly, Merlin moves his hands from Arthur’s shoulders to cup his face and leans in, pressing his lips to Arthur’s parted mouth, his blood singing in his veins at feeling the velvety softness again. A broken gasp escapes Arthur, a final plea, but Merlin hangs on until Arthur relents, hands fluttering at Merlin’s waist before giving in all at once in a b-line rush for Merlin’s arse. He pulls Merlin in so tightly that Merlin groans into Arthur’s mouth as it opens fully to receive Merlin’s starved tongue.

“F-fuck,” Merlin almost sobs into their kiss as their groins meet and mash together in delicious gyrations. Merlin’s hard, so hard, and he can clearly feel that Arthur is, too; his cock a solid bundle surging against the expensive material of his slacks. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s face, one hand carding up through Arthur’s silken blond hair and the other eagerly reaching down between them to rub palm over Arthur’s rigid outline, and Arthur’s lips slip, sliding down Merlin’s jaw, quick pants hot on Merlin’s skin.

Merlin senses Arthur’s barely held restraint and leans to whisper into the curve of his ear.

“Don’t hold back, Arthur, please. I’m not afraid anymore.”

A shudder runs through Arthur’s body from his toes all the way up to his head, and as though a lever’s been pulled, Arthur is unleashed, his body coming to life. He buries his face in Merlin’s neck, his nose nuzzling its way behind Merlin’s ear, lips grazing a trail of kisses. Merlin grips Arthur’s suit jacket, holding on as though through a tempest, loving the feel of Arthur’s tongue swirling against sensitive skin.  

Arthur’s hands burrow beneath Merlin’s pants, holding his bare arse cheeks and squeezing rhythmically. Merlin whimpers, overcome with desire and emotion at finally having Arthur in his arms again. He yanks Arthur’s shirt out of his slacks and pushes his hand underneath to feel the warm skin of Arthur’s hard abdomen, snaking upward until he has a pebbled nipple between his fingers. Arthur’s making sounds that feed Merlin’s already raging fire, and God—he just wants to bend the man over his desk.

Arthur has similar ideas, for he swiftly turns Merlin so that he’s leaning back on solid mahogany, Arthur’s hands working to strip him of the pants he so recently put back on. Arthur shoves the calendar, pens, keyboard, and everything else within reach off the side of the desk until Merlin is lying down, his back on bare wood. The sight of Arthur breathing hard, his tie askew and hair standing on end while a huge boner tents his Armani slacks is one of the hottest things Merlin has ever seen. Arthur backs up to the door and locks it, then turns off the overhead light so that it doesn’t beam down into Merlin’s eyes. He then moves toward the blinds on the side wall where Merlin had spied on Arthur and Cenred and pulls the string to close them completely.

Merlin’s chest rises and falls quickly, the anticipation of the moment almost painful. He looks at the hungry expression on Arthur’s face and it makes his cock twitch. And _oh fucking shit_ , he just wants Arthur to _lose control_. In as sultry a move as Merlin can manage when he’s shaking all over with need, Merlin lifts his arms and grasps the top corner of the desk, baring his armpits to Arthur’s scrutiny. At the same time, he allows his legs to fall invitingly open.

Arthur makes a grunting noise that is so tantalizingly _caveman_ it brings a trickle of pre-cum from Merlin’s cock. Arthur licks his lips and steps forward, looking down at Merlin with blown pupils. Merlin feels like a sacrifice, and he want to be that sacrifice. “Come on, Arthur. I want you to,” he says quietly. “Whatever you need. Take it.”


	19. Sex and Japanese Food

With the agility and gracefulness of a tiger, Arthur approaches Merlin where he’s spread out on the desk, one hand tugging at the knot in his tie. Slowly he leans over Merlin, planting a hand on each side of his body and running starving eyes over Merlin’s bare form.

“Fuck, I want you. All of you, every bit of you,” Arthur chokes out, and Merlin lets go of the desk to reach up and run two fingers over Arthur’s pouting red lips. Arthur opens his mouth, taking the digits in and sucking on them, a gesture that immediately brings to mind Arthur’s mouth on Merlin’s cock. It goes straight to Merlin’s already throbbing groin, and he wiggles helplessly. Arthur lets go of Merlin’s fingers and lowers his head to run his nose up Merlin’s sternum, sending a shiver ratcheting up Merlin’s spinal cord that nearly explodes in his head. Arthur pauses to bite at a collarbone before moving upward at an angle to nose his way into Merlin’s exposed armpit. Merlin sucks in a breath, chill bumps popping up all over his body at the sensation as Arthur begins to plant gentle kisses amongst the hairs growing there.

Merlin groans, closing his eyes for a moment, lost in the feeling. When Arthur’s wet tongue touches Merlin’s skin, Merlin jumps, emitting a breathy moan, and then Arthur is kissing him there, really kissing him, like he did that first time in Jim’s Beard. Licking and sucking and pushing beneath Merlin’s arm like he’s crazed, and it’s so fucking sexy that Merlin is dribbling cum all over his stomach and crying out helplessly, his hands gripping at the sides of the desk.

“Arthur, _please_ …” he begs, because it’s torture and he wants Arthur inside him _right the fuck_ _now_.

Arthur’s hands move to undo his belt and trousers, and Merlin spreads his legs wider like a red light hooker, lifting his arse in needy little thrusts. Lifting his face away from Merlin’s armpit, Arthur rubs his fingers in the saliva there and brings them down between Merlin’s legs, snaking behind his balls to Merlin’s clenching hole. With his other hand, he manages to drop his trousers and pants to the floor, exposing his long, thick erection to Merlin’s greedy eyes.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” Merlin begs, way past the point of caring how he sounds or even who might hear him. Leon could have a glass to the door for all he cares. Let him the fuck _enjoy_ the show and get an earful of what great sex is supposed to sound like; Merlin doesn’t care, only _get that perfect cock into his arsehole right this second!_

He’s out of his fucking mind with lust, beginning to writhe on the desk, but Arthur’s being a gentlemen and stretching Merlin out with spit-slick fingers, so Merlin bites his lip and tries to still his wanton squirming, concentrating on the way it feels to be prodded so intimately by the man he loves. Merlin’s cock has leaked so much cum, he’s surprised it’s still ramrod stiff, pointing emphatically at the ceiling. When the pads of Arthur’s fingers swipe over Merlin’s prostate, Merlin lets out a cry that pulls an answering moan out of Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur straightens, taking his turgid prick in one hand and, dipping his fingers into the puddle of cum on Merlin’s abdomen with the other, slickens himself up for penetration.

Merlin watches, mouth dry and hanging open, as Arthur spreads the milky white spunk over the silken skin of his dick.

“Yes, Arthur, fuck me, shit, _please_!” he shamelessly pleads, and Arthur lets out an impatient growl, surging forward and burying himself inside Merlin to the hilt in one swift, smooth motion that causes Merlin to throw his head back in painful pleasure, knocking himself senseless on the desk.

He sees stars for a moment, but the steady pounding he’s taking in his arse clears his head quickly and what starts out as a pulsating tingle running throughout his body suddenly explodes in a massive firestorm of sensation. Merlin yells hoarsely, his cock spurting seed onto his face and hair.

Arthur keeps relentlessly driving into him, balls slapping against Merlin’s arse, and Merlin wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist, forcing him to move closer, to bend down so Merlin can kiss him, their tongues sliding together just outside their lips. “So perfect,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s mouth, “you in me.”

Arthur’s breathing speeds up, his thrusts become shallow and messy, and he leans his head back. Merlin moves forward, arms pushing him upward, latching onto Arthur’s prominent Adams’ apple with his mouth, sucking on it, and feels the vibration of Arthur’s moan as his hips stutter and he cums, body jerking.

Arthur sags, arms shaking in his attempt to hold him up. Merlin can’t help it; he grins crazily up at Arthur’s sweaty face hovering above him, shirt half off his shoulders and tie resembling a noose.

“Shut up,” Arthur says without heat and eases out of Merlin’s body. Merlin finds that his limbs are Jello and the most he can do is slide off the desk and sink to the floor, lying there staring up at the ceiling like a stunned animal. Arthur stumbles, the back of his legs hitting the couch and he sits, the picture of debauchery with his Armani suit pants pooled around his ankles and his spent cock resting on his bare thighs.

“God, that was…so good,” Merlin breathes. “I’m never getting up. You’ll have to conduct business around me.”

This brings a huff of laughter from Arthur, and Merlin grins hugely, turning to look at him.

“Stop it, goofball,” Arthur points a shaky finger at him before letting his arm fall loosely at his side. “Oh, my God, I’m starving.”

Merlin rises to an elbow. “Me, too! Let’s get out of here and go eat until we can’t anymore, and then let’s go back to mine and shag until we can’t anymore.”

Arthur’s face grows serious. “You think it’s going to be that easy?” he asks a little sadly.

Merlin reaches out and touches the top of Arthur’s shoe. “It can be. If you let it. Please, Arthur.”

Arthur’s eyes are cloudy, and Merlin pulls himself up and knee walks over to him. “Come on. Let’s take it a step at a time, yeah? Let’s go get some dinner.” He raises his brows at Arthur until Arthur nods, and then Merlin stands, holding a hand out to help Arthur up. They begin to dress, and Merlin laughs as Arthur uses bottled water and a tissue to wipe the cum out of Merlin’s hair and off his face and chest.

It’s a bedraggled pair that finally exits the office, and Merlin is more than relieved to find the outer area empty, Leon having apparently fled and locked the outer doors. They take the back stairs down to the parking garage and slip into Arthur’s Porsche like naughty children.

“Well, were to?” Arthur asks, turning to Merlin, eyebrow arched.

“How about Chinese?” Merlin suggests. “Or Japanese? Thai? Anything oriental.”

“I think I know a good place,” Arthur says, and backs the car out of his space, pulling up and out of the parking garage and into the waning daylight. Merlin hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. He doesn’t know what took the longest, the sniffing or the fucking, but he knows what he enjoyed the most. His body is singing from his coupling with Arthur. His heart is near bursting with joy. Everything Merlin sees looks new and different to him, and it only confirms the fact that he’s in love.

Forty-five minutes later, Merlin finds himself lounging on pillows behind screens printed with Japanese art, his shoes left outside the partition. Arthur reclines across from him, at ease and smiling, eating from various dishes with chopsticks, occasionally leaning over to feed some to Merlin, who can’t seem to hold onto any food with his.

Merlin knows he’s staring at Arthur with a cow-eyed expression, but he really can’t help it. He must have told him he loves him five times since they sat down, and Arthur’s a little pink in the cheeks, but his contented expression makes Merlin’s heart soar. He reaches out and grabs Arthur’s hand, entwining their fingers.

“I’m never going to let you go again, Arthur,” he tells him seriously. “Never, never.”

Arthur scoffs at this, but doesn’t pull away, just sets the chopsticks down and leans in for a soft, spicy kiss. Merlin grabs hold of Arthur’s tie, holding him in place, their lips pressed together. “You can trust me, you know,” Merlin says against them.

Arthur doesn’t reply, just turns his head and buries his nose in Merlin’s hair.

When they resume eating, Arthur brings up the contract.

“You don’t have to sign it, Merlin.”

“Not this again! You said yourself that your father is excited about it,” Merlin reminds him. “Arthur, I can handle it.” He looks at him. “Unless you’re rethinking having me at Pendragon. I won’t be there all the time, you know. I’m ready to get away from your posh employees and back to my real patients.”

Arthur shakes his head. “It isn’t that, and if you’re really okay with Father, then I’m okay with it. I just don’t trust Cenred around you.”

“What do you think he’s going to do, molest me?” Merlin asks, chuckling. “After that violent massage I gave him, he knows I’m stronger than I look. Don’t worry about it, Arthur. I’m rather looking forward to having a men’s cologne out there bearing my name.” He gives Arthur a self-important smirk.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “All right, then. But if Cenred gives you any trouble at all, you’d better tell me.”

“And you’ll come galloping to my rescue?” Merlin asks. “How sweet!” He bats his eyelashes until Arthur throws a piece of meat at him.

After dinner, Arthur drives Merlin home.

“You can stay the night, you know,” Merlin tells him, but Arthur shakes his head.

“Don’t pull away, Arthur,” Merlin says quietly, one foot resting on the kerb, the passenger door open and letting the night air in.

“I’m not,” Arthur denies. “Just let’s take it slow, yeah?”

Merlin nods, leans in to kiss him softly, and gets out of the car. He watches Arthur drive away, the enormous weight he’s carried for weeks lifted from his heart and a smile on his lips.


	20. Making My Way Back to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any artists out there reading? I'd love to have some art for this story.
> 
> I'm in a bit of a hurry this morning. Hope there aren't a lot of errors. I'll check over it more when I get home. Half day today.

“That is a decidedly different face than the one that left this morning,” Gwaine comments when Merlin sails into their flat. Merlin just shoots him a thousand watt smile and heads for the shower.

He definitely does _not_ relive the moment when Arthur’s cock slid into him like a heat-seeking missile and have a wank.

When he comes back out, dressed in pyjama pants and toweling his hair dry, Gwaine’s waiting for him.

“You can have some of the pasta I made, but only if you tell me what’s going on,” Gwaine bargains, indicating the speghetti in the pot on the stove.

“I’ve already eaten,” Merlin replies, enjoying the look of frustration on his friend’s face for a moment before giving in.

“Arthur and I are back together,” he says, and Gwaine’s answering grin warms his heart.

“That’s brilliant, mate! But how? Last I heard was your text saying you were going to quit over there and come back to your practice.”

“I’m still doing that,” Merlin tells him, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator and opening it. “But I’m also going to be spending some time at Pendragon.”

Merlin settles on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table, and fills Gwaine in on everything that’s happened, minus the details of the glorious sex on the desk.

“Oi, Merlin, what exactly does this involve?” Gwaine scratches his beard. “I mean, sounds like Arthur’s giving you an out on this cologne thing, so why do it?”

Merlin scrapes the label on the beer bottle with his finger nail, considering. “I wasn’t lying when I said it’d be cool to have a scent out there with my name on it-particularly since I’ve never been able to wear one.” Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t expect you to understand that. I’m not sure that even I do. But besides that, I could just tell that this is important to Arthur’s father, and that means it’s important to Arthur, no matter what he says. It’s only for a while, and I can take a bit of discomfort. And it’s not like I’m not going to be compensated for my time. I can use the money.”

“Okay, man, I guess you know your own mind.”

Merlin raises a brow, a little surprised that Gwaine’s giving in so easily. “That’s it? No more arguments?”

“You’re an adult,” Gwaine shrugs.

“Cheers!” Merlin grins, and drinks his beer.

 

Signing the contract doesn’t take long, and Uther’s excitement is contagious.

“I’ve already got advertising working on this—‘Merlin—for the magical man in your life.’”

Merlin can’t help the little thrill that zaps through him at those words. His own cologne? He can’t believe it! Plus the monetary compensation for what little he’s actually doing is more than fair. Far more.

“You can move out of that little flat,” Arthur tells him over lunch, carefully not looking his way. “Get something bigger. Closer to your shop.”

“Not the best offer I’ve had lately,” Merlin comments, watching Arthur closely. Arthur stares down at his plate for a moment before sliding his eyes Merlin’s way only to jerk them over to the wall when he finds Merlin looking at him.

“Arthur, sorry,” Merlin says. “But honestly, it only took me a couple of hours of really thinking to realize that I’d messed up and should’ve jumped at the chance to move in with you.” He sighs. “But that’s all water under the bridge now. You’re right—I could get a new place. But I’m not going to do anything until Gwaine makes a decision about Elena.”

Arthur nods, taking a bite of celery. “So…Father wants you here in the mornings for the next few months. Will you be going to your shop this afternoon?”

Merlin considers. “I think I will. I need to check up on things there. Stephen—that’s the guy I’ve got filling in for me—he’s good, but a lot of these clients have been coming to me for a long time and have issues that they trust me with. I need an update, and I need to schedule a few pro bono visits to make up for my not being there.”

Arthur studies him, blue eyes serious. “That’s good of you. After all, they couldn’t have missed many massages from you in just two weeks.”

“I know,” Merlin shrugs. “It just feels like the right thing to do.”

“You shouldn’t have left everything to come to Pendragon,” Arthur tells him.

“Oh, believe me,” Merlin winks, “it was worth it.” He reaches under the table and squeezes Arthur’s knee. “I’ve really missed you, Arthur. Just having lunch with you like this is heaven.”

Arthur colors but doesn’t say anything. They finish eating in companionable silence.

Outside, Merlin hails a taxi and turns to Arthur. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Arthur buries his hands in his pockets, a gesture that Merlin’s come to recognize as one Arthur does to cover his nerves.

“I’ll probably stay late and work,” he replies, and Merlin understands Arthur’s reticence, he really does, especially after what happened in Arthur’s office. Arthur is afraid that Merlin really wants him for the physical side of their relationship. Merlin’s even gladder now that he arranged for two dozen miniature red roses to be waiting for Arthur upon his return to the office with a note telling him he means the world to him.

“Okay. Another time. I’ll see you in the morning? I have to meet Cenred in the _laboratory._ ” Merlin makes a monsterish face, and Arthur laughs.

“Yeah. I’ll definitely come down and make sure everything gets off to a good start. Have a good afternoon, Merlin.” He sees Merlin into his taxi.

“Bye, Arthur,” Merlin says softly. “I love you.” The door closes, but Merlin sees Arthur watching the cab until it rounds a corner out of his sight.

Merlin spends the entire afternoon at his massage shop, talking to Stephen, reviewing appointments, and making calls. He doesn’t leave until well past closing, and as soon as he clears the doors, he phones Arthur.

“Still at work?” he asks him.

“Yes. I’ll probably be here until ten or so.” Arthur sounds tired.

“Eaten?”

There's a pause. “I had an apple…sometime earlier.”

“Have the guard let me in. I’ll bring you some take-out. Just tell me what you desire, my lord; your wish is my command.”

“Merlin, you don’t have to do that---and thank you for the roses, by the way. They’re beautiful.” Arthur’s voice becomes soft and low, like it gets in bed, and Merlin almost tears up hearing it. He clears his throat.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to! Now what would you like? Shall I surprise you?”

“A corned beef on rye would be nice,” Arthur admits. He lets out a breath. “Actually, it would be brilliant; I’m starved!”

Merlin picks up some sandwiches and heads to Pendragon with them, where he and Arthur have a picnic on his office sofa, after which Merlin insists on slipping off Arthur’s shoes and socks and giving him a foot rub.

“Oh, my—fuck, Merlin, that feels so good,” Arthur moans, arching his back, arm thrown over his face. He’s splayed out on the sofa, his shirt sleeves rolled up and tie and jacket removed. Merlin is determined not to make this about sex, but it isn’t easy when Arthur looks like that.

Even Arthur’s feet are sexy. The tops are silky soft with just a sprinkling of hair, his toes are long and knobby and Merlin would dearly like to suck on them, and the arches feel delicious under Merlin’s hands. He kneads and rubs first one and then the other, enjoying the sounds Arthur makes when he hits certain spots. It isn’t long before Merlin’s so hard he can’t stand it. He glances at Arthur’s crotch and sees that he’s in a similar predicament.

With a kiss to each foot, Merlin moves off the sofa. “I’d better be going,” he says, standing and wadding up their trash.

Arthur sits up, looking adorably bedraggled, and adjusts his pants. “That was phenomenal, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Merlin smiles. Arthur stands and walks Merlin to the door, pinning him there with a hand to each side of Merlin’s head. Arthur lowers his face and kisses Merlin softly, mouth pliant and warm.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Merlin,” he whispers.

Merlin rubs his hand over Arthur’s broad back. “See you.” He kisses Arthur on the nose, turns, and leaves.


	21. In the Closet

Merlin’s been with Cenred an hour and a half when Arthur finally strides into the lab. He’s told himself he’s fine with it—that Cenred sniffing away at him between note-taking and fragrance blending really doesn’t bother him in the least—but as soon as he sees Arthur’s familiar face, he immediately sags with relief.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur mouths, his eyes apologetic, and Merlin smiles at him, because he knows Arthur can’t be there with him all the time. He’s just going to have to be a big boy and man up. The thing is, Cenred’s somehow caught on to Arthur’s and Merlin’s relationship, and he seems to take pleasure in embarrassing Merlin whenever possible, such as with prolonged crotch-sniffing sessions in front of Phaedra and other lab techs.

“I don’t think this is necessary for the process,” Merlin had told him just that morning.

Cenred grunts impassively from his position between Merlin’s legs. “And just exactly what would you know about it? I didn’t question your massage technique when I was on your table, did I?”

“Actually…” Merlin corrects, but Cenred stands up, cutting him off, a look of superiority on his roguish face.

“Just leave this to me. I have to isolate your particular scent so I can try to duplicate it either by natural or synthetic means. It’s a very complex and delicate process, and quite frankly, your nattering away is distracting me. Your job is to stand there and let me sniff you, so just shut your gob and do it.”

“And just exactly when will you be done with the sniffing?” Merlin asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m done when I’m done!” Cenred throws his hands in the air in frustration. He sighs, glancing at Phaedra as though looking for commiseration. “You can take a short break. I’ll call you back when I need you.”

And Cenred does call him back, not ten minutes later, and now Arthur has walked in while Cenred’s nose is buried in the inside of Merlin’s elbow.

Arthur clears his throat. “About finished with Merlin for today?” His tone is more of a demand than a question.

Cenred raises his head, a sneer on his face. “I suppose.” He looks at Merlin. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He walks over to his counter of vials and tubes, and Arthur narrows his eyes at the man before taking Merlin by the elbow, leading him to the dressing rooms.

“Thank God,” Merlin sags against the door as soon as they get through it. “That man is a snake.”

“I had meetings all morning, or I would have been here,” Arthur apologizes.

“I know that,” Merlin says, reaching for his clothes, which are folded on a shelf. “It’s all right.”

“Merlin, if Cenred is being anything but professional, I want you to tell me.”

Merlin glances at him. “You know he has to smell my crotch, right?”

Arthur grimaces. “Don’t remind me. Does he do it often?”

“Often enough, yes. The question is, how often is too often?”

“I would imagine if you have to ask, then it’s too often,” Arthur replies through clenched teeth.

“I don’t want to cause problems,” Merlin tells him, slipping his legs into his pants.

“Merlin, you are here to help us make cologne, not to be molested by our lab technician. I’ll have a word with Cenred.” He moves toward the door.

“Arthur, no,” Merlin grasps Arthur’s arm, stilling him. “Come on, this can’t last too much longer. It’ll be fine.”

Arthur runs his hands over his face, obviously frustrated. “I don’t like him touching you, particularly when I’m not around.”

Merlin’s mouth twitches. He can’t help it; Arthur is _jealous_!

“What?” Arthur asks, looking at him.

“Nothing.” Merlin slips his shirt on.

“No, you are definitely smirking. Why?”

Merlin purses his lips, concentrating on buttoning his shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Merlin!”

“Okay,” Merlin looks at him. “It’s just, well, could it be that you’re a little bit jealous?” He smiles.

Arthur frowns. “No! I’m not. At all. I’m just annoyed at Cenred’s blatant disregard for professionalism.” He shakes his head. “ _Jealous_. Really, Merlin. The very idea.”

Merlin laughs, stepping into his pants and tucking his shirt into them. Arthur shakes his head again and leaves the room to wait out in the hall. Merlin continues to smile to himself while he finishes dressing.

“Do you want to get some lunch before you head to work?” Arthur asks when Merlin joins him by the elevators, and Merlin colors with pleasure because this is his fourth morning in the lab and Arthur has never asked him before.

“That sounds great,” he answers as they get on the lift, and Arthur presses the button for the garage. Merlin almost jumps when Arthur takes Merlin’s hand and squeezes it, but recovers enough to return the pressure, his fingers eagerly wrapping around Arthur’s until the doors slide open and they step out.

“I’ve never seen Father so excited about a fragrance,” Arthur says as they walk to his car. “I’ve heard tell he was about my mother’s, but I was too young to remember. He’s been haranguing Cenred to get it right, I know, so perhaps we should cut the man some slack, much as I hate to. Having my father breathing down one’s neck isn’t fun; I know from first-hand experience.”

“I haven’t seen Uther in the lab since that first time,” Merlin tells Arthur, climbing into the passenger seat of the Porsche.

“He’ll stay away until Cenred has something to present to him,” Arthur answers. “But don’t think he isn’t riding the man’s arse with emails and phone calls.” He starts the engine, then looks at Merlin. “Still, I don’t want Cenred purposely making you uncomfortable. If he crosses a line, I want to know about it.”

“All right. I promise I’ll let you know if it happens. Now, where would you like to eat? Being smelled all morning has made me famished.” Merlin grins hugely and Arthur’s mouth quirks even as he sighs.

“Honestly, Merlin. For a man without an extra inch of fat on him, you certainly do eat a lot.” 

 

As much as Arthur is opening up to Merlin, Merlin knows he’s holding back, and it makes Merlin look back at the time when he unknowingly had all of Arthur with a longing that physically hurts. Merlin sees Arthur every morning when Arthur comes to the lab to supervise what’s going on, and there’s been the occasional lunch, but Arthur still seems reticent to take their relationship any further, and it’s frustrating. Merlin’s in it for the long haul, however, so he shoves his frustration aside and concentrates on enjoying every moment he has with Arthur.

Since the day in Arthur’s office when they got crazy on the desk, there has been nothing physical between them other than some fairly innocent kisses. Every time Merlin is with Arthur there’s a moment of white hot desire when all he wants to do is shove Arthur against the closest solid surface and have at him. Merlin has never done so much wanking as he has lately, and Gwaine has been giving him looks about the amount of time he spends in the shower.

Finally, after a particularly grueling session with Cenred where all the man wants to do is smell the back of Merlin’s neck and behind his ears, Merlin corners Arthur in the hall and manhandles him into a janitor’s closet.

“Merlin, what are you---“ before Arthur can say anything else, Merlin covers his mouth with his own, sucking on Arthur’s upper lip while wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in close so that their bodies fit together.

It’s perfection.

The closet is dark and musty and there are buckets and mops everywhere, but Merlin manages to find a flat wall to press Arthur against. He’d be worried about being too forward, except that it’s obvious Arthur is enjoying himself by the way he’s responding, his knee pushed up against Merlin’s throbbing groin and his right hand clutching Merlin’s bum like a life preserver.

Merlin tugs at Arthur’s hair, pulling his head back enough for him to say, “—had to have your mouth…touch you…” and then he swipes his tongue as far back in Arthur’s mouth as he can get, hips pressing in, yearning for more contact. Arthur moans into Merlin’s kiss, short-circuiting Merlin's brain, and Merlin clutches at Arthur’s shirt, wanting it _off off off_. He doesn’t know what he expected them to _do_ in a janitor’s closet, but if all he gets is kissing and groping, he thinks he can live with it for now. Arthur just feels so damn good under Merlin’s hands and against his body. 

Merlin reaches between them and palms Arthur’s hard bulge, rubbing against it as Arthur pants a bit frantically into Merlin’s ear, every now and then making half-hearted lunges for the lobe to suck on it before losing grip due to a moan. Merlin is relentless in his assault, determined to bring Arthur to climax there in the dark closet, if only to hear the breathy noises he makes.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, finding the head of Arthur’s cock beneath the expensive material and thumbing it. Arthur jerks and makes a whimpering noise, tightening his grip on Merlin’s arse. “That’s it…shoot your load for me, right here...right now…”

Arthur makes a sound half-way between a squeak and a groan and arches into Merlin. Merlin presses his palm in hard, and feels the warm wetness against his skin. There’s an answering throb in his groin, an exhilarating tingle throughout his frame, and a flash of white before his eyes, and he sags forward against Arthur, barely keeping them upright against the wall.


	22. After Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to stop where I did. There will be more later, promise.

 

They stand there in the darkness of the janitors’ closet for long moments, clutching at one another, waiting until their breathing slows and their heartbeats return to normal. Arthur’s face rests in the crook of Merlin’s neck, his breath hot on Merlin’s sweat-dampened skin. As Merlin’s mind clears, he slowly realizes that Arthur has a death-grip on Merlin’s shirt, clenching the soft cotton into his fists, and that Arthur’s breaths are wet and thick.

Merlin reaches up, smoothing damp blond hair, wrapping his arms around Arthur and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Arthur only nods into Merlin’s neck, nuzzling closer while taking a long breath in through his nose. Unlike Merlin’s experiences with Cenred, Uther, and others in the lab, he finds that being smelled by Arthur is a uniquely satisfying experience that makes him feel cherished and adored. He suddenly realizes how far he’s come from those first days when it had seemed so odd and even freakish that Arthur was so attracted to his body odors. Merlin can feel Arthur drawing comfort from his scent—actually calming from it, his limbs relaxing within the circle of Merlin’s arms.

Emotion, thick and all-consuming, envelopes Merlin, wrapping him in a cocoon of warmth.

“God, I love you,” Merlin murmurs into Arthur’s hair, cradling him, swaying a little on his feet. He presses fervent kisses down to Arthur’s ear and whispers, “I’m going to make you believe me, Arthur. I know I messed up, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Arthur seems unable to pull away. He burrows his face into the V of Merlin’s shirt and rubs his nose along the long column of Merlin’s neck until sounds in the hallway abruptly remind them that there is an outside world waiting for them to emerge.

When the door suddenly opens and light pours in, causing both Merlin and Arthur to squint against it, Arthur jumps aside as though electrocuted, striding forward suddenly, breezing past the shocked and bewildered custodian, barking orders about too many buckets and not enough ammonia before reaching back into the closet, grabbing Merlin by the wrist, and pulling him after him.

Back in the safety of Arthur’s office, they collapse against the door, laughing.

“You are going to completely ruin my reputation as the aloof, untouchable son of the CEO,” Arthur tells Merlin when he recovers, looking at him a bit fondly. Merlin reaches out to smooth down Arthur’s crazed hair.

“Good, because it’s a ridiculous reputation for such a soft, sweet man,” he says sincerely, and Arthur blushes to his roots.

“I’ve got to get to work,” Merlin tells him, glancing at his wrist watch. “I have an appointment in an hour.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin from under the fringe of blond lashes, and it makes Merlin want to touch him. “Do you think you could work me in after hours?” Arthur surprises him by asking. “I could use a rub down.”

Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up, but he only smiles slowly and nods. “Sevenish?”

Arthur agrees, then looks down at the dark spot on the front of his trousers. “Lucky for you I keep an extra suit here.”

Merlin laughs, glancing down at himself. It’s a bit less noticeable on his dark jeans. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.” He leans in and kisses Arthur before pulling the door open and leaving.

 

 

 

All day, through appointment after appointment, Merlin can’t stop thinking of Arthur and his plans to come by after work. It’s not only exciting to Merlin because he wants to see Arthur, but because he knows that Arthur asking for a massage, something he was formerly uncomfortable with, is an olive branch of sorts. He’s ready for him long before Arthur is due, and practically jumps out of his skin when the knock comes at the door to the front of the shop.

Arthur looks so presentable in his navy suit that Merlin wonders if he took the time to go home and shower. As he re-locks the door and follows Arthur into the back room, he determinedly clamps down all sexual thoughts, telling himself that he’s going to give Arthur a professional, relaxing massage and not reduce himself to groping the man like a horny teenager even though as Arthur takes off his suit jacket, Merlin can see that those navy slacks hug Arthur’s arse like a second skin.

Merlin busies himself as Arthur undresses and gets on the table, changing the music, even though it was fine to begin with, and uncorking the unscented oil.

Unlike the first time Merlin had massaged Arthur, Merlin is wearing his comfortable scrubs-like uniform, although he slipped his shoes off some time ago after his final appointment of the day.

He turns to find Arthur ready, his face positioned in the cushioned opening, and the towel draped over his lower half.

“I’m going to begin with your feet,” Merlin tells him, and Arthur grunts, settling in.

Merlin lets himself be absorbed in the rhythm of the massage, losing himself in the feeling of Arthur’s strong foot beneath his hand, the graceful arch and bony toes. He tries not to think about whom he’s massaging, or the fact that he’s so attracted to those feet, those ankles, calves, and thighs, as he works his way methodically upward, manipulating the muscles as he’s been trained to do. It’s surprising to him that, after doing this all day, he still feels a difference when massaging Arthur’s body, and that if he would only let himself, he could easily get hard.

Arthur is completely relaxed beneath Merlin’s fingers, occasionally emitting a grunt or a sigh. When Merlin discreetly folds the towel so that he can access the tops of Arthur’s thighs, and he sees that perfect arse peeking out, he bites his bottom lip hard to keep from groaning, and wonders if he imagines that Arthur almost imperceptibly opens his legs on the table.

Merlin moves his fingers along the muscles at the back of Arthur’s left thigh thoroughly before moving to the right side. He then skips the tempting arse and moves to Arthur’s neck and broad shoulders, working Arthur over until he’s pliant and loose under his hands. When Merlin’s massaged Arthur down to the tips of his fingers, Merlin straightens, reaching for a cloth to wipe the excess oil from Arthur’s skin.

Arthur reaches down and swipes the towel off his arse. “You’ve forgotten something. Not very professional of you, Merlin,” he says without looking up. Merlin’s eyes are pulled to the twin mounds of delicious flesh protruding so gracefully from the sway of Arthur’s back. As though in reply, Arthur clenches his butt cheeks and lets them go.

Swallowing hard, Merlin flexes his fingers.

Picking up the vial of oil, he tilts it, letting a small stream fall onto Arthur’s bare arse. The thick liquid runs down the meaty globes, some of it pooling invitingly in the crack. Merlin reaches out and swipes it clear with his thumb, and Arthur shivers.

So much for professionalism.


	23. Taking a Chance

Arthur opens his legs invitingly and Merlin groans, his fingers slipping into Arthur’s crack of their own volition, running along the soft skin there, smoothing oil onto the tantalizing pucker that seems to beg entry. Arthur hums low in his throat, easing his arse off the table, and Merlin continues rubbing oil between Arthur’s cheeks, teasing him with his fingers.

“God, Merlin,” Arthur rasps, and Merlin’s cock jumps in his pants at the sound of the other man’s _need_. He rims Arthur with the pad of his index finger, watching the beautiful man squirm helplessly on his table.

“Merlin, _please_ …” Arthur groans, and Merlin pushes his finger inside, curling it, making Arthur cry out and draw his knees up and cry out. “Fuck, oh holy shit!”

Merlin adds another finger and moves them in and out, fucking Arthur while using his thumb to massage his prostate from the outside. Arthur’s breathing becomes ragged, his face turned to the side and resting on his folded arms.  He looks wanton and filthy, and Merlin can’t take his eyes off him as Arthur’s climax builds, his eyes rolling back into his head and red lips falling open in a hoarse cry when it finally hits, sweat rolling off his temple, hips jerking and arse clinging to Merlin’s now-frantic fingers.

As Arthur recovers, Merlin gently rubs his back, telling him how gorgeous and wonderful he is and how very much he loves him. He leans down to plant a reverent kiss on the small of Arthur’s back, just between the sweet divots above his arse.

Eventually, Arthur pushes himself into a seated position on the table and looks at Merlin with hooded, drowsy eyes.

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms, and Merlin steps toward him, accepting his warm, enveloping hug.

Arthur holds him tightly, his arms and legs wrapped around Merlin’s body and nose buried behind Merlin’s ear, and Merlin revels in the feel of him, loving the way that Arthur again seems to take what he needs from Merlin’s scent. After long, silent minutes, Arthur pulls back and kisses Merlin softly on the mouth. “I got cum all over your massage table,” he says quietly. “Better break out the Lysol.”

Merlin laughs, the solemnity of the moment broken, and kisses Arthur firmly.

“You could have fucked me,” Arthur tells him when they break away.

Merlin shrugs. “I liked using my fingers. I liked watching you come apart like that.”

Arthur blushes. “I’d like to do the same for you sometime.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Merlin tells him, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s bare shoulder where the skin is soft and warm. “But right now, why don’t we go get a bite to eat?”

Arthur moves his hand, reaching between them to rub against Merlin’s half-hard crotch. “Don’t you want me to take care of this for you?”

“I’m okay,” Merlin says. “Let’s get some dinner.”

They go to a place nearby that serves delicious salads, and wind up sitting until late over wine and laughing over various employees at Pendragon.

“You know, the woman with the front butt,” Arthur says, flourishing his hand.

“Arthur!” Merlin admonishes, laughing, giddy with wine. “That’s horrid!”

Arthur shakes his head, his grin wide. “I know, I know. I think we’ve had enough, don’t you?” He looks at his watch. “God, it’s later than I thought.” They gather their things, and as they’re leaving, Merlin gets a text.

“It’s Elena. She’s says she’s just left mine and wants to know where I am.” He’s texting while he’s talking and hits send.

The street’s fairly deserted at this late hour, and a chill wind whips around the corner, biting at them. Arthur puts an arm around Merlin’s waist, pulling him close, and Merlin peers at Elena’s next message.

“She wants to meet me at the coffee place near my apartment. Want to go with me?” He looks at Arthur, who is so handsome in the moonlight Merlin’s heart jumps in his chest.

“Do you think she’ll mind?” Arthur asks, and Merlin shakes his head.

“I already told her I’m with you.”

They take a cab, and Elena’s waiting when they enter the shop, which is known for being open late. The guy at the counter waves to Merlin. Elena has already ordered coffees for all of them.

“What’s up?” Merlin asks Elena as they sit down at the table. “And where’s you’re other half?”

“I left him sleeping at yours. Hello, Arthur,” Elena gives Arthur a friendly smile.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Arthur says politely.

“Nonsense. I’m the one horning in on your date with Merlin.” She sighs, looking directly at Merlin. “I just wanted to run this by you. I’m going to ask Gwaine to marry me.”

Merlin was not expecting that, and his mouth falls open.

“What? Really? Like, for real?”

Elena laughs. “Yeah. I figure he’s never going to ask me, so why not?” She leans back and sips her coffee.

“What happened to moving in together? I thought that was the next step,” Merlin points out.

“That was Gwaine’s next step, not mine. Thing is, at one point, you were the only thing standing in our way. What I mean is, you wouldn’t have a flat-mate, and couldn’t afford living on your own. Now we believe your financial circumstances are a bit better?” She looks at Merlin until he nods assent. “So Gwaine can move out. I’m going to ask him on Christmas Eve.  I’m just giving you fair warning.”

Merlin licks his lips, unsure what to say.

“You think he’ll say no, don’t you,” Elena looks just a little crestfallen. Arthur’s watching Merlin from under his fringe while twirling his coffee mug between his fingers.

“I don’t know, of course,” Merlin hedges.

“I’d say you know Gwaine better than anyone, except for me, and I’m a little too close to the situation,” Elena replies with a sigh. “I know Gwaine will move in with me if I ask him. But if we do, we’ll go on like that indefinitely and never get married.” She looks at Merlin and Arthur with sad eyes. “I want more than that. I want it all. Even if it means losing him and moving on to get it.”

Merlin’s depressed all of a sudden, the high of the day melting into a puddle of angst. “Okay, then. I guess…thanks for the warning?”

Elena gives him a small smile and finishes her coffee. The rest of the conversation is polite and centers on Arthur’s father and Nevin and the garden at Jim’s Beard. When they part with her outside the shop, Arthur comments, “She’s a courageous lady, going for what she wants.”

Merlin nods, thinking about what Arthur isn’t saying--That he knows first-hand how it feels to put it all out there and be kicked in the teeth.

They part on a much less high note than they would have just an hour earlier.


	24. Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments! <3

Over the next few days Merlin vacillates between wishing he’d screwed Arthur into his massage table and being glad he didn’t. He hasn’t forgotten that Arthur bottoming is something he’s reserved only for Merlin, and that thought warms Merlin to his very toes, along with filling him with a deep sense of responsibility at the gift Arthur’s giving him. At the same time, it makes Merlin hornier than hell—almost like being handed a virgin—just at the very knowledge that Arthur, _Arthur_ wants Merlin’s cock in his arse— _only Merlin’s…_ Merlin gets hard every time he thinks about it.

Every. Single. Time.

And he thinks about it a lot.

One very embarrassing moment comes when Merlin thinks about it while Cenred is sniffing him, producing a boner that the lab tech simply can’t ignore. Fortunately, they’ve had too many sessions for Cenred to be able think that Merlin’s arousal came from the sniffing. Still, Cenred’s obvious delight over Merlin’s embarrassment is humiliating to say the least, and Merlin has to work very hard from then on never to think of Arthur again while in the lab.

So he reserves remembering Arthur slicked up and writhing on Merlin’s massage table, pert arse in the air just asking for it, for times when Merlin’s alone. And that’s when he sometimes chastises himself, telling himself he could have had Arthur again—been up to his root in Arthur’s sweet arse-- and it had been _so long_!

But when Merlin’s head clears of lustful thoughts and he’s had a good wank, he knows it’s for the best that he hadn’t taken advantage of the moment. Arthur is only just now really opening up to him again, and Merlin still wants to take things slowly and do it right.

Mornings at Pendragon are still tedious, with Cenred sniffing and ordering him about as always, but Arthur comes down whenever he can, and his watchful eye keeps the smarmy man in check.

By the end of Merlin’s third week there, he senses a change in the atmosphere; Cenred spends more time with his vials and chemicals than he does sniffing Merlin, and there’s more bustle in the lab. It’s the first week of December when Nevin swings by to tell Merlin that he can limit his time there to twice a week.

“This has been a godsend, Merlin,” Nevin confides when they’re alone in the changing room and Merlin is slipping his jeans on under the gown. “Budge’s been so happy and excited. You’ve really breathed new life into his work. He’d actually been talking of retiring before you came along!”

“I really haven’t done anything,” Merlin says as he finishes dressing.

“Well, just the same, thank you.” Nevin squeezes his shoulder. “And it looks like you and Arthur are back together. I’m glad to see it. The boy seems happy again.”

“Things are going well, yes,” Merlin smiles. “I’ve learned a lesson.”

Nevin pats him on the back and leaves.

Merlin’s phone buzzes with a message from Gwaine, asking him why women are such great puzzles.

 _Don’t ask me, mate. I’m gay,_ Merlin texts back and goes to find Arthur to see if he wants to get some lunch. He hasn’t seen him all morning, and assumes he was waylaid by meetings.

When he enters the executive suite, Leon is at his desk playing Tap Defense on his iPhone, ear plugs in, and glances up at Merlin’s appearance.

“Arthur in his office?” Merlin mouths, pointing.

Leon nods. “Got someone in there with him. Cenred, I think,” he says before looking back at his phone. Merlin takes a moment to think what a crap PA Leon can be, but then remembers that he’s only an occasional PA and more of a family member along with a list of other things Merlin’s forgotten.

Merlin hesitates, then moves toward the door, which is cracked. It’s no secret that Arthur loathes Cenred, and Merlin isn’t jealous or anything, merely curious. His intention is to have a peek and then go sit over by the wall until they’re finished. But when he puts his eye to the door, what he sees not only shocks him, but catapults him into action.

Cenred, face red, angry, and intent, has Arthur’s right arm pinned tightly behind his back, Arthur’s chest pressed flush against the mahogany file cabinet. It is evident there’s been some kind of struggle, as Cenred’s lip is bleeding, papers are everywhere, and Arthur’s hair is disheveled and his jacket sags half-off his shoulders. One of Cenred’s huge hands covers Arthur’s mouth so tightly that Cenred’s fingers are white about the edges, and Merlin can hear Arthur struggling to catch a breath through his nose.

Cenred is saying something to Arthur, low in his ear, and Cenred’s knee is planted firmly between Arthur’s legs so that Arthur cannot move. Arthur is angry; there’s no doubt about that. His chest heaves and his face is crimson. He struggles, but Cenred only laughs. In seconds Merlin absorbs the scene and white, hot anger such as he’s never experienced before in his life consumes him. He knocks the door open so hard that it bounces off the wall,  and charges forward, surprising Cenred into loosening his hold on Arthur before Merlin’s fist connects with Cenred’s face and he goes flying backward into a fish tank that Merlin would have sworn hadn’t been there the last time he was in the office. It breaks, sending gallons of water, not to mention fish, cascading over a reeling Cenred and onto the carpeting.

Arthur fumbles for the phone on his desk and calls security, which evidently alerts Leon, who appears at the door, his face a study in astonishment.

“Holy crap, Leon, get some water for these fish!” Merlin yelps, catching a few in a cup. “Arthur, are you all right?”

Arthur leans against the desk, catching his breath and looking dazed and a bit bemused at Merlin’s attempts to gather up the flopping fish from the floor and slip them into the insulated water bottle he plucked from his backpack.

“When in the fuck did you get a fish tank?” Merlin asks.

“Gift from Morgana,” Arthur says quietly, stooping to catch a rainbow fish and toss it with the others.

Security shows up, along with Percy, who scowls at the wet Cenred still sprawled senseless on the floor. Arthur explains that Cenred attacked him, and Merlin half listens as he and Leon continue to save fish before they suffocate, crawling about on the carpet and cursing as they slip through their fingers.

“I’m trying to save you, you cheeky bugger!” Leon exclaims as a tetra takes a valiant leap from his hand, landing on the sofa and flopping about gracelessly. Merlin swipes it into the large plastic container of water that Leon has somehow managed to procure. As Cenred is hoisted to his feet and led away, Merlin glances about for any stray casualties.

“There must’ve been fifty fish in that tank!” he exclaims, exhausted. Arthur has sagged onto the couch and looks over at Leon.

“Where the hell were you when I shouted for you?”

Leon turns beet red. “Er, ear plugs?” He holds them up from where they’d dangled from his shoulders.

Arthur shakes his head. “That lout had me in some kind of wrestling hold. He’s stronger than he looks.”

Merlin sits beside Arthur and puts a hand on his knee. “What exactly happened?”  
Arthur’s nostrils flare, the muscle in his jaw working. “He came up to convince me that we’re perfect for one another. When I told him to bugger off, he decided he would show me with a rather sloppy kiss.” His eyes slide to meet Merlin’s. Merlin can feel every muscle in his body tense at the thought of Cenred kissing Arthur, and he suddenly realizes his fingers are digging into Arthur’s knee. He loosens his hold with an apologetic pat.

“I’m glad you got here when you did,” Arthur says quietly. “I’m not sure I could have stopped him from doing whatever it was he was planning to do.” He swallows, and Merlin’s heart skips a beat.

“Did he threaten you?” Merlin asks.  
Arthur gives a curt nod, and Merlin lays his head on Arthur’s shoulder, unwilling to think too much about it, or he might go crazy with anger. He takes a moment to thank whatever gene made him a nosy Newman, because he can’t stand the thought of what might have happened if he’d simply taken a seat in the lobby to wait.

Leon calls the custodians to come and deal with the mess, and Merlin stands, pulling Arthur to his feet. “I’m taking you to yours. No arguments,” Merlin tells him. “You can use an afternoon off, and I’m cancelling my appointments.”

To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur doesn’t say anything, just follows him docilely out of the office.


	25. Aftershock

Later, as Merlin sits on Arthur’s sofa, body half-turned to enjoy the gorgeous view of central London spread outside the windows, Arthur lying half asleep with his bare feet in Merlin’s lap, Merlin pauses mid-rub to wonder if he might be developing a bit of a foot kink. He certainly loves Arthur’s feet. He loves the feel of them, particularly as they are at this moment, fresh from the shower. The tops are so soft, with just a sprinkling of hair, and something about the bony, masculine toes make him a little hard. He lifts Arthur’s left foot and presses a kiss to the arch, earning a dopey, sleepy smile from the object of his affection. When he licks a wide path with his tongue up the sole of Arthur’s foot, Arthur lifts an aristocratic brow. He’s not particularly ticklish, and he suffers Merlin’s kisses and nips in silence.

When Merlin reaches Arthur’s toes and sucks them in one by one, swirling his tongue around each in turn, Arthur draws in a slightly ragged breath, meeting Merlin’s eyes.

“You’re a kinky bastard, Merlin,” he smirks, and Merlin parts his lips, biting down on Arthur’s middle toe.

“You have sexy feet,” he tells Arthur. “I can honestly say I’ve never sucked anyone else’s toes in my life.”

Arthur moves his other foot off Merlin’s lap and presses it to Merlin’s crotch, pushing at it gently but steadily. Merlin closes his eyes and breathes, moving his mouth down to kiss Arthur’s foot again, lips pressed to the arch, forehead against the ball and chin against heel, and Arthur bends his toes, tangling them in Merlin’s fringe.

Arthur continues to push at Merlin’s crotch with his right foot, driving him a little mad.

Merlin opens his eyes, raking them over Arthur, so provocative in just his red boxer briefs and white T-shirt. Arthur has been subdued ever since they left Pendragon, refusing to talk about what happened, and Merlin insisted that Arthur get comfortable and relax as soon as they got to his flat. He’d fixed Arthur a bowl of soup while Arthur showered.

Uther phoned to rant and rave and tell Arthur he was replacing Cenred and already had a list of people to interview, then fretted about the whole thing setting back the development of _Merlin_ cologne. Nevin finally took the phone away from him, inquired after Arthur, and told him to get some rest. No sooner had they ended the call, than Morgana called and told Arthur that she’d always thought Cenred was a sleazy bastard, and how in the hell did her present get broken so quickly? It seemed forever until things settled down to just the two of them in the quiet of the flat.

“Will you stay tonight?” Arthur surprises Merlin by asking. Merlin is suddenly reminded of the last time he sat there with Arthur, when he had asked Merlin to move in with him.

“Of course,” he answers, his voice a little hoarse with emotion. “Do you mind if I shower? And maybe borrow something to wear?”

Arthur unfolds himself from the couch, and Merlin feels bereft without the weight of Arthur’s foot in his hand.

“I’ll find something. Go ahead and shower now—there should be a clean towel in the hall closet. You might as well be comfortable, too. Maybe we can find a good movie on the telly.”

Merlin smiles and gets up, stretching. As much as he wants to kick his own arse for reacting so poorly when Arthur asked him to move in with him, he has to admit he almost feels a different person now. He’s grown a lot, and it feels good.

In Arthur’s shower, Merlin is pleased and a little humbled to find there’s still some unscented soap and shampoo. It almost brings tears to his eyes, because he half expected Arthur to throw it out.

When he comes out of the bathroom, a large navy towel wrapped around his waist, Arthur calls him into his bedroom.

“If Leon still lived here, you’d probably fit into something of his. My pants are going to be short on you, but here.” He hands him a pair of black flannel pyjama pants. Merlin drops the towel and slips them on, not failing to notice that Arthur checks him out while he does so. Then Arthur hands him a clean white T-shirt. When Merlin pulls it over his head, he thinks it smells of Arthur, and he likes being enveloped in that smell.

As Merlin lies in the V of Arthur’s legs watching _The Avengers_ , he listens to Arthur’s heart beating beneath his ear. Arthur plays with Merlin’s hair, running his fingers through it, sending tingles through Merlin’s scalp and down his neck.

“You’re my knight in shining armor,” Arthur says suddenly, his voice rumbling in Merlin’s ear.

Merlin leans his head back, looking up at Arthur in the dim light. “Oh, yeah?”

Arthur nods, his eyes a little moist. “He said he was going to…”

Merlin’s heart begins to pound and he shifts a little on the couch. “What?” When Arthur doesn’t answer, Merlin scoots up a bit so that their faces are close together.

Arthur’s expression is lost. He looks like he’s trying to form the words but can’t.

Merlin reaches up and trails a finger down Arthur’s cheek. “What did he say, Arthur? Tell me.”

The dark blue pools of Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s and he forces the words out. “He said he was going to give me an arse pounding I’d never forget.”

Merlin’s fingers still, resting at the collar of Arthur’s T-shirt.

“Oh, my God.”

“If you hadn’t come…”

“But I did.”

“But if you hadn’t…Leon couldn’t even hear us, Merlin, and dammit, I couldn’t _move_!”  
“Arthur.” Merlin takes Arthur’s face in his hands. “Stop. I did come, and Cenred isn’t coming back to Pendragon.  You are going to press charges against him for assault, and maybe even attempted rape.”

Arthur shakes his head vehemently. “I can’t do that. Not the…not the rape part.”

“Okay, okay. But the assault, yeah? And we’ll be rid of him.” He leans in and kisses Arthur softly on the lips. Arthur closes his eyes. “If he had done it—I couldn’t have stood it.” Arthur reaches up and clasps Merlin’s hand in his where it rests against his cheek, and Merlin kisses Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes, his own very serious. “Merlin, I…”

Merlin waits, wondering what he wants to say. Arthur shakes his head before burying his face in Merlin’s neck, his body trembling. Merlin holds Arthur tightly, rubbing soft circles on his back until he calms.

A knock on the door startles them both, and Merlin gets up.

“I’ll see who it is.”

He peers through the peep hole to see Leon’s distorted features, unlocks the door and opens it. “You brought the fish here?” Merlin asks, staring at the container in Leon’s hands.

“Well, yeah. Morgana told me to,” Leon answers, walking past him, Percy in his wake. “She says she’s having a tank delivered here tomorrow.”

“She’s in a fish phase,” Percy explains. “She put a salt water tank in the spa.”

“Lovely,” Arthur says dryly from the couch.

“Arthur, are you doing all right?” Leon asks, setting the fish on the table and walking over to him. “I’m really sorry about what happened, mate. It never occurred to me that Cenred would get violent with you or that you’d ever be in any kind of danger in  your office.”

“It didn’t occur to me, either,” Arthur tells him.

“All the same, and no offense to you, Leon, but don’t you think it’s time Arthur got a real PA? Someone who actually knows what he’s doing?” Merlin suggests.

Leon looks slight **l** y put out, but Percy laughs. “I think Merlin has a good point there.”

“You know, I only had the ear buds in because Arthur complains about the noises the game makes, and who wants to play a game without the noises?” Leon defends, arms crossed over his chest. Percy pulls him in for a hug, kissing him on the temple.

“What are you getting all snippy about? You hate being Arthur’s PA!”

Arthur frowns. “Why? It’s the easiest job in the world. He just sits there and plays and eats off the pastry cart.”

Merlin’s wandered over to look at the fish. “These aren’t going to die on us before the tank comes, are they?”  
“No, no, they’ll be fine,” Percy says, stepping up to stand beside him. “I have fish at home.” He leans a bit closer. “Hey, uh, is Arthur really okay? What was going on in there when you walked in?”

Merlin glances over his shoulder to find that Leon has plunked down on the couch beside Arthur and they are discussing something in the movie.

“Cenred had him pinned to the file cabinet, his hand over Arthur’s mouth to where I’m not sure Arthur could breathe properly. He told Arthur he was going to—well—have him.”

Percy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck, no! Oh, shit!”

Merlin nods. “But Arthur doesn’t want to bring that part up with the police. Just the assault.”

Percy nods, running his fingers over his mouth. “Yeah, okay. Uther’s taken care of it all on the police end. Money talks, you know. So Arthur doesn’t have to worry about going down there.”

“That’s good. He’s a bit shaken up,” Merlin says staring down at the fish.

Percy turns around. “Let’s go, Leon. The cats’ll be hungry.”

Leon gets up off the couch, giving Arthur a pat on the shoulder.

“Cats?” Arthur makes a face. “You have more than one now?”

“We have three,” Leon sighs. “Perce keeps taking them in. He’s like a cat magnet. They keep showing up at our door.”

When they’re gone, Merlin returns to the couch with Arthur, pulling him close.

“This has made me feel really weird, Merlin,” Arthur says into his neck.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asks.

Arthur plays with the hem of Merlin’s T-shirt. “Well, essentially, nothing really happened, yet I feel as though something did. I feel violated somehow. And,” he admits in a small voice, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Merlin tightens his hold around him. “I think that’s understandable. You _were_ violated in a way. He put his hands on you when you didn’t want him to. Kissed you. Held you against the cabinet and hurt your arm.” These things are difficult for Merlin to say. He wants to go kick Cenred’s stupid face in.

“You were vulnerable there for a while and the shock hasn’t worn off.”

Arthur nods, tightening his hold. “I need you, Merlin.”

“I’m here. I’ll give you whatever you need, Arthur.”

Arthur lifts his head. Kisses Merlin’s ear. His jaw. His mouth. Pliant, warm kisses that make Merlin melt into the sofa. He buries his hands in Arthur’s soft hair, tugging at it as Arthur explores his mouth with his tongue, running it over Merlin’s teeth and gums.

“I need to have you,” Arthur whispers into Merlin’s mouth as he pushes Merlin back into the couch, tugging his T-shirt up and over his head. “I want to smell and feel you all around me.”

Merlin lets himself be touched and kissed, Arthur’s lips and fingers branding him. Arthur sucks a love bite on the skin just above Merlin’s armpit, and Merlin wraps a leg around Arthur’s, pulling him in closer, their erections pressing together through their pyjama pants.

“Bed,” Arthur murmurs, and they tumble off the couch, stumbling down the hall and into the bedroom, falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, Arthur’s mouth sucking frantically on the tendon in Merlin’s neck.

At first Merlin thinks Arthur wants to physically overpower him and then fuck him hard, but what it turns into is Merlin seated on Arthur, grinding down onto Arthur’s cock with insistent twists of his hips that quickly drive Arthur over the edge. Merlin’s prick bobs between them like a wand weaving spells, and Arthur grabs hold of it, pulling on it with plaintive tugs until Merlin gasps and shoots, splattering white ropes across Arthur’s chest and chin. Merlin falls forward, twisting to the side to avoid smothering Arthur, and Arthur’s cock slips out of him. Arthur reaches down, dragging the sheet up over their bodies.

“God, that was good,” Merlin sighs, pulling Arthur close. Arthur snuggles into Merlin’s neck, breathing him in, and Merlin thinks he hears a whispered, “I love you,” before they both succumb to sleep.


	26. A New Sniffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 as always.  
> I so obviously don't know anything about the perfume making process.  
> I think I owe all German people an apology. And thanks to Fuchsschaf for the help!

A notification from his mobile awakens Merlin sometime later, and he blinks a moment, trying to orient himself. When he remembers he’s in Arthur’s flat, he can’t help the smile that forms on his face as he fumbles over the side of the bed for his pants.

The text is from Gwaine and it reads, _Why is Elena giving me the stink eye?_

A warm cheek presses to Merlin’s as Arthur peers over his shoulder and squints at the bright light of the phone in the darkness.

“Gwaine’s having woman troubles,” Merlin tells him. “Wonder why he’s texting me so late?”

“It’s really not that late,” Arthur tells him. “Only a little after eleven. We went to bed early.”

Merlin texts Gwaine a couple of question marks, and lies back on the bed, pulling Arthur into the crook of his arm. “Sorry the phone woke you.”

“I was already awake,” Arthur says. “I had a dream.”

Merlin runs his hand over Arthur’s bare back. “A bad one?”

“Sort of,” Arthur runs his lips over the soft skin over Merlin’s ribs. “It was weird, and there was more than one fish in it.” He looks up at Merlin. “Do you think it’s wrong of me not to want to tell the police that Cenred threatened to—you know?”

"Of course it isn't wrong. It's totally up to you."

“I just don’t want it in the press. I mean, if it had happened, I suppose I would go ahead with it. But since it didn’t…”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Arthur. I understand.” He’s suddenly filled with anger. “God, Cenred is such a disgusting piece of shit!”

“Think how much time you spent alone with him!” Arthur points out, shifting restlessly.

“He never wanted me. I think it drove him nuts that you kept turning him down, and then knowing that you and I are together really bothered him. He probably can’t figure out what you see in me.”

  
Arthur kisses Merlin’s chest. “You’re worth a hundred Cenreds, Pixie. A thousand.”

  
Merlin chuckles, but inside his heart melts. Arthur hasn’t called him Pixie since the break-up. He tangles his feet with Arthur’s, rubbing them together.

“Trying to start a fire?” Arthur asks after a minute of this.

Merlin laughs. “No, I just like the way your feet feel against mine.”

“You’re so weird, Merlin.”

Merlin snorts. “This from the man who likes to bury his face in my armpit.”

Arthur pinches a chunk of skin on Merlin’s side and Merlin yelps.

“I like the way every part of you smells, not just your armpit. Although I have to say it is a really nice place under there…like a little nest or something.” Arthur noses his way up under Merlin’s arm like a small animal seeking refuge.

“What if I never used deodorant and had uncontrollably long armpit hair?”

“I daresay I wouldn’t be putting my face in your pit if that were the case, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur replies with a huff. “I’m not a masochist. I like the way you smell because you smell _good_. Good to me, anyway.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe you actually called me weird a minute ago,” Merlin exclaims in wonder, staring at Arthur as he nuzzles under Merlin’s arm, making noises of supreme contentment. Arthur only hums in reply, his exhales tickling Merlin’s underarm hair.

After a moment Merlin asks, “Arthur, are you hungry? You want me to make us a snack?”

  
“I don’t want to move,” Arthur tells him, his voice muffled. “And you’re not allowed to move either.” He’s curled into a ball, his hands folded under his chin and his face tucked up under Merlin’s arm. Merlin sighs and shifts a little so that he’s resting more on his side than on his back and he can slip his feet between Arthur’s. Within moments, he’s asleep again.

 

“You never answered my text last night,” Gwaine complains when Merlin gets home the next afternoon. “And why did you stay the night at Arthur’s? You left me here with Elena and no buffer.”

“Why would you need a buffer?” Merlin asks, looking through the refrigerator for something edible.

“She’s so barmy lately. Takes everything I say wrong.” Gwaine sits down at the kitchen table and proceeds to trim his toenails in spite of Merlin’s disgusted looks. “Honestly, there for a while I was really considering moving in with her, but now I’m not so sure.”

Merlin bites his lip. _That’s not good._

“Did you try asking her what’s wrong?” Merlin asks, drinking milk straight from the carton.

“Oi! Merlin, stop that!” Gwaine leaps up and tries to take the carton away from him.

“It’s the last of it!” Merlin says, dancing back and draining it before throwing it in the bin. “Maybe Elena’s mad at you because you’re such a freak! I mean—trimming toenails in kitchen _good_ , drinking dregs from milk carton _bad_?”

Gwaine rolls his eyes. “Why do I even try talking to you?” and walks off, like he’s superior in some way or even capable of having a serious conversation, which Merlin knows he isn’t.

Merlin takes out his mobile and texts Elena.

_G thinks you are acting funny. What’s up?_

He then begins cleaning out the refrigerator so he can go to the store and buy things to fill it up that aren’t processed puddings and waxy cheese like Gwaine buys.

It isn’t long before his mobile beeps.

_Funny how?_

Merlin sighs. _Acting weird. Giving him the stink eye. His words not mine._

Oddly, Elena doesn’t text back, and Merlin soon forgets about it.

When Arthur calls him, Merlin’s cleaning dust bunnies from under his bed.

“Merlin, I hate to bother you, but…”

“You’re not bothering me, Arthur,” Merlin pulls himself up from the floor.

Arthur’s quiet a moment. “Are you exercising? You sound…winded.”

“Cleaning. What’s up?”

“Oh. Well, Father wants you to come in. I’m sorry, I know you thought you’d be free this morning.”

“It’s okay. I can be there in an hour. Is that soon enough?”

“I’ll tell him. Thanks.”

“Do you know what this is about?” Merlin asks, wiping sweat off his forehead with his arm.

“I think he’s found a replacement for Cenred, and well, he can’t start working without meeting the inspiration for the cologne, can he?”

“Guess he can’t,” Merlin allows. “Okay, see you soon, then.” He hangs up and heads for the shower.

 

When Merlin enters the building, the first person he meets is Morgana, who promptly calls him a fish killer and then sweeps him into a smothering hug.

“Thank you,” she says into his ear before sailing away as though they’d never spoken. Merlin makes his way to the lifts and presses the button for the basement.

Cenred’s replacement is a small, balding, German man named Karl-Heinz who wears glasses that magnify his already large eyes comically. He reminds Merlin of a beetle.

“Back in Germany, I am known as the man with the most sensitive nose in three states,” Karl-Heinz tells Merlin proudly as he shakes his hand. Merlin can well believe this, because Karl-Heinz has a _gigantic_ nose. He is sure Arthur is thinking the same thing, by the look on his face. “I like to smell the pulse points, first. May I?” Karl-Heinz asks, and Merlin nods.

Karl-Heinz turns Merlin’s hand over and delicately places his nose to Merlin’s wrist, sniffing it loudly. He raises his head, makes an inscrutable face, and holds out his hand. A very large woman who had been introduced to Merlin as Ada hands the German a cut onion which Karl-Heinz grasps and immediately takes a deep whiff from. “Olfactory cleanser,” he explains to the group gathered around before stepping closer to Merlin, who can’t help but be intimidated. Arthur stands off to the side, looking as though he wants to laugh.

“Now for your neck, ya?” Karl-Heinz purses his thick lips and blinks at Merlin through bottle-thick glasses.

Merlin gives a wincing smile and Karl-Heinz leans and sniffs just under Merlin’s jaw. “Very interesting,” he says, taking a sniff of the onion again. “Lastly, there’s my favorite pulse point—the popliteal.”

Merlin is afraid to ask.

Karl-Heinz steps back. “Would you lower your pants please?”

_Well, shit._

Merlin swallows, looks to Arthur, who seems to be purposely looking away, and unsnaps his pants, dropping them to his ankles.

“Wunderbar. Now turn around, bitte.”

Merlin does, wondering where in the hell this Karl-Heinz creep is going to smell him. He hears the man get to his knees behind him, and can’t help but look over his shoulder a little frantically, only to find Karl-Heinz smelling the backs of Merlin’s knees.

“Erstaunlich!” Karl-Heinz breathes ecstatically.

“Is that good?” Merlin asks as Karl-Heinz rises with the help of Ada.

Karl-Heinz chuckles good-naturedly. “It means ‘amazing.’ Your scent is maddening. If I were not, how you say, _into women_ , I would be all over you this very moment.”

Alarmed, Merlin glances at Arthur, who has covered his mouth with his hand and obviously finds the entire thing very amusing, _the git_.

Uther wraps an arm around Karl-Heinz’s shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you? Now let me show you what we have so far.”

Merlin gets his slacks back up and follows Arthur into the hall.

“Ohhh, Merlin!” Arthur puts on a very bad German accent. “You shmell so guud!”

Merlin pushes Arthur against the wall and kisses him soundly. “Shut up,” he says before walking away, arse swaying exaggeratedly.

Arthur chases him onto the lift and as soon as the doors are shut, pulls him close. “Come to the office Christmas party with me,” he surprises Merlin by saying. Arthur’s arms are locked around Merlin’s middle, and he doesn’t move, even when the doors slide open and Garth from accounting steps into the lift.

“Okay. When is it?”

“The thirteenth,” Arthur tells him. “Hello, Garth,” he says over Merlin’s shoulder. Garth jumps, but nods at Arthur.

Merlin thinks a minute. “Oh, wait—damn, Arthur, I can’t.”

Arthur looks a bit crestfallen, and Merlin pulls him closer. “The day before that’s my mum’s birthday, and I promised I’d go for a visit. I’m sorry, otherwise…”

“It’s okay,” Arthur says, letting him go. “You can’t let your mum down. I’ll just have to get through the party without you somehow.”

The lift doors open again and Garth quickly slinks out.

“Why does everyone act as though I make them uncomfortable?” Arthur asks, looking adorably clueless.

“Er, because you do?” Merlin says. They get off on the second floor, and Merlin follows Arthur to his office to see how it’s been cleaned up before heading out to work.

When Merlin arrives at his shop, he finds Elena waiting there for him in tears.

“Merlin,” she sobs, throwing herself into his arms. “I’m pregnant. What am I going to do?”


	27. Elena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah. I do really need to wrap this up soon. It's getting novel length, here! And I have a paper legends fic languishing in my documents folder. But not quite yet...

Merlin hustles Elena into the shop. Her face is red and messy, and Pam immediately comes from behind the front desk with a box of tissues.

“Elena, are you okay?” she asks. “Oh, and Merlin, Mrs. Fairmont is on the table waiting.”

Merlin cringes. He’s late, and Mrs. Fairmont isn’t very understanding.

“Okay, okay,” he runs his hand through his hair and looks apologetically at Elena. “Can you wait? After I’m through with her, I should have some time?” He looks to Pam to confirm.

Pam nods and Merlin rushes back to wash his hands and change.

When he finally makes it to Elena forty-five minutes later, she’s calmer, and Pam has put her in the back room and given her some tea.

“Are you absolutely sure about what you told me?” Merlin asks her when he’s seated opposite.

Pam goes into the next room to wash towels and give them some privacy.

“Yes,” Elena sighs. “I’ve been to a doctor.” She twists a tissue around her finger. “There’s no question about it.”

“You’re going to tell Gwaine, right?” Merlin prompts.

Elena looks at him, her large eyes filling up with tears again. “I went over there today. He broke up with me!” Her face crumples pitifully.

Merlin sits up straight. “What? That bastard!” He jumps to his feet, thoughts of bursting into Gwaine’s office and punching him in the nose running through his head.

Elena reaches out and grabs hold of Merlin’s arm. “Merlin, I didn’t tell him about the baby. I didn’t get a chance to! He broke up with me first. He said…he said he’s been thinking about this for a while.” She blows her nose and then falls into sobbing. Merlin comes to sit beside her on the little couch, hugging her to him.

“That wanker,” he says because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“What am I going to do?” Elena sobs, her lower lip wobbling.

Merlin thinks. “Well, for now…maybe you should go stay at Gwen’s. You don’t want to be alone tonight, and she’ll be a big help; I know she was when Arthur broke up with me.” He pulls his mobile out of his pocket and calls Gwen. As he talks, he takes a key off his ring.

“Take this and go to Gwen’s flat,” Merlin instructs Elena when he ends the call, pressing the key into her palm. “She says to make yourself comfortable. I’ll come by there after work, yeah?”

She nods, wiping her face. “But Merlin…don’t tell Gwaine about the pregnancy. I don’t want him to know. The last thing I want is for him to get back with me because of it.”

“I won’t, but he has a right to know, Elena.”

Elena doesn’t reply.

 

That evening Gwen, Lance, Merlin, Elena, and Arthur sit around Gwen’s dining room table eating nachos heaped with cheese and sour cream.

“You’re all here to witness my shame,” Elena moans. “And I can’t even get drunk!”

“Would you like us to get drunk for you?” Gwen asks. “Or remain sober in an act of solidarity?”

“Sober, please,” Elena says morosely. “Misery loves company and all that.”

Merlin’s mobile buzzes. “Fuck, it’s Gwaine. He wants to know where I am.”

“Don’t text back!” Elena says crossly. Everyone else gives Merlin sympathetic looks for being caught in the middle.

“If I don’t say something, he’ll just call,” Merlin points out.

“Oh, all right," Elena relents. "Go ahead. But don’t let him come over here.” She stabs at a nacho with her fork, cracking it into pieces.

Merlin texts Gwaine that he’s at Gwen’s, but that Elena is with him and that Gwaine should stay away. Gwaine asks if she’s okay, and Merlin relays this to Elena.

“For fuck’s sake, what does he care?” Elena yells, getting up from the table and stomping into the bathroom. The slam of the door shakes the flat.

“Well.” Gwen puts her napkin on the table and sighs.

“I’ll just tell him she’s fine,” Merlin says, thumbs moving rapidly over the screen.

“Tell him she has a date,” Gwen suggests.

“I like that!” Arthur agrees eagerly. “A little jealousy never hurt.”

Merlin gives Arthur a curious look.

"Sorry," he says, deflating. "I don't get out much."

“I am not going to lie," Merlin tells his friends.

“You just told him she’s fine—that’s a huge lie!” Gwen points out.

“But what if he runs over here?” Merlin splutters.

Gwen claps her hands. “That would be great!”

“I can hear you, and no it wouldn’t!” Elena screeches from the bathroom. “Stop talking about me!”

Arthur scoots a little closer to Merlin. “This reminds me of when Morgana was a teenager,” he confides with a shudder. “She yelled a lot.”

Elena comes out, wiping her eyes. “I can’t believe he broke up with me!” she tells them for the sixth time that evening. “I was going to ask him to marry me! I was going to ask him on _Christmas fucking Eve_! I had it all planned out, and it was going to be so _fucking_ romantic!” She turns to Arthur, staring at him intensely. “You know how _fucking romantic_ that would have been?”

Arthur nods dumbly while Elena hovers, shoulders shaking with barely contained hysteria, and Merlin tries to shield his boyfriend from the impending explosion he knows is coming. When the sobbing starts, Gwen, God love her, jumps up and wraps her arms around Elena, holding her tightly.

“I hate him, Gwen,” Elena vomits the words into the smaller woman’s shoulder. “I hate him! But I fucking love him!”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Gwen strokes Elena’s blond hair, her fingers getting tangled in its messy strands.

She leads Elena into her bedroom and shuts the door behind them.

The three men look at one another with various degrees of horror and dismay before getting up as one and clearing the table.

“All I know is, if it was me, I’d want to know,” Lance finally breaks the silence once they are in the kitchen and fairly sure Elena can’t hear them.

“I think most men would,” Arthur replies.

“I can see Elena’s point, though,” Merlin tells them, stacking the dishes in the sink and running water over them. “Gwaine just dumped her. If she tells him about the baby, he’ll probably want to marry her. She doesn’t want him to do it out of obligation.”

“She can always refuse to marry him,” Arthur points out.

“Yeah, but how hard’s that going to be? Having him around for the rest of her life only because they share a child?”

“She not going to have an abortion, is she?” Lance asks.

“How should I know?” Merlin shuts off the water, turns around, and leans on the counter. “It’s her business. I don’t even want to know if she’s considering it. I’m in a really difficult place, here. I have to face Gwaine every day.”

“I don’t think it’s right, is all I’m saying,” Lance has his hands on his hips and looks almost angry. “Not behind Gwaine’s back.”

“Lance, you can’t tell him. It’s Elena’s place, not yours,” Merlin says emphatically.

“Give her some time,” Arthur suggests. “This has been a shock. We’re just here to be a sounding board tonight.”

Merlin nods, and Lance finally gives in, his body relaxing.

After a while, Gwen and Elena come out of the bedroom. Elena is subdued, wearing a pair of Gwen’s pyjamas with cats all over them, the makeup washed off her face and her hair combed and in two long braids. They watch some movies and laugh a little bit, and Elena falls asleep on Merlin’s shoulder. He carries her to Gwen’s bed while Lance makes up the couch. Arthur and Merlin head back to Arthur’s.

“Makes me glad I’m gay,” Arthur comments when they’re spooned together in his big bed, Arthur’s nose in the nape of Merlin’s neck. “I don’t have to worry you’re going to get pregnant and keep it from me.”

Merlin chuckles, moving his mouth to press a kiss to Arthur’s arm where it drapes over Merlin’s chest.

“This makes things really weird for me with Gwaine,” he says into Arthur’s skin. “I hope Elena tells him soon.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Arthur asks softly.

Merlin doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know.


	28. Can't Fix Everything

“Merlin, are you avoiding me?” Gwaine asks over the mobile, which keeps slipping out of Merlin’s hand and onto the mattress.

“Why do you ask that?” Merlin says when he recovers the phone.

“You haven’t been home for days! What the hell are you wearing to work?”

“I wash my scrubs at the… shop,” Merlin says, his voice faltering as Arthur shifts his hips and his cock slides in just the right way.

“Well, I feel like I live here by myself. It’s like ever since I broke up with Elena, you don’t talk to me. Are you mad at me?”

“No…’course not… Ah!”

“Merlin! Are you fucking while I’m talking to you?”

“No, Gwaine, actually you’re…oh! Talking to me while I’m fucking! I’ll call you back.” He flings the mobile onto the floor and reaches behind him to grasp Arthur’s hip, digging his fingers in as Arthur speeds up the tempo of his thrusting. Arthur’s hand is pulling at Merlin’s cock so deliciously slow, a flush builds throughout Merlin’s body, scrambling his senses.

“Oh, fuck, Arthur!” he moans, and Arthur bites him on the shoulder. They’ve been going at it for at least twenty minutes, and Merlin knows he’ll be sore, but he doesn’t care because it feels so _fucking good,_ and it’s Arthur, and if Merlin could walk around with Arthur’s dick inside him forever, he would. Arthur’s fingers inch down to fondle Merlin’s sack, and Merlin whimpers, wanting to cum so badly he thinks he’s going to burst into unmanly tears of need at any moment. Finally Arthur shifts with a growl, getting onto one knee and really pounding into Merlin, pushing Merlin’s knee up into his chest as he does so, and Merlin jerks his release into his own hand, his shout ringing throughout the room. Arthur curses through his own intense orgasm, hips slapping at Merlin’s backside, ballsack giving Merlin a good spank.

“Holy mother of God,” Arthur sighs, falling back on the mattress.

Merlin silently agrees.

It takes a while for Merlin to recover, and when he does, he quickly showers and dresses, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s head where he lies half asleep in the rumpled bed.

“Not going into work?” he asks in Arthur’s ear, and Arthur grunts, turning over.

“Later,” Arthur mumbles into the pillow.

“Must be nice, Mr. Poshypants,” Merlin grins. He finds his phone on the floor. “I’m going to have to sleep at home tonight. Gwaine’s getting annoyed, and I guess it’s time I talk to him about everything.”

  
Arthur turns his head and opens one eye. “Let me know how it goes.” He reaches out a hand and languidly strokes Merlin’s arm in goodbye before shutting his eyes again and dozing off.

 

Merlin brings home anchovy and pineapple pizza that night in apology to Gwaine. When he enters their flat, all’s quiet, and he thinks perhaps his friend isn’t home from work yet. He sets the box in the kitchen and looks in the refrigerator, happy to find some beer. He’s a little surprised to find something else: a pair of lacy panties dangling on a bottle of Bass Ale.

Picking them up, he straightens, suddenly getting the feeling that he’s not alone in the room. He turns to find a naked woman with the largest breasts he’s ever seen standing behind him.

“Oh! You found them!” She plucks the panties from his hand with a gap-toothed grin and proceeds to slip them on. Gwaine walks up behind her.

“Merlin! You decided to come home!”

“This is your flatmate?” the girl asks. “He’s cute.” The woman is standing there only in her knickers, and Merlin finds it difficult to know where to look. Gwaine, fortunately, is wearing some pants, so Merlin looks at him, only to discover that he has love bites all over his neck.

“This is Sylvie, my new receptionist,” Gwaine tells Merlin.

Sylvie seems quite at home in their kitchen and not the least bit shy about being bare-breasted. Merlin thinks her breasts aren’t even real—they look too symmetrical and…glossy. He realizes he’s looking at them and jerks his eyes away again.

“Erm, nice to meet you. I came home so we can talk, _Gwaine_.”

“Oh,” Gwaine says, picking up a slice of pizza and tilting his head back to take a bite. “Okay.”

Merlin cuts his eyes toward Sylvie, his back to her so only Gwaine can see.

“Better go put a shirt on, Syl, or you might burn the pretties,” Gwaine tells her, and Sylvie smiles, kisses him wetly, and flounces down the hall to Gwaine’s bedroom.

“Gwaine!” Merlin says through his teeth. “Who the hell is she?”

“I told you!” Gwaine looks at him like he’s daft.

Merlin shakes his head. “Get rid of her, will you? I want to talk to you. Privately!”

Gwaine frowns, but heads down the hall, and soon a giggling Silvie is kissing Gwaine goodbye, groping his arse while she does so.

“Bye, Merlin!” she calls to him, and Merlin gives her a tight smile as she disappears out the door.

“Jesus, Gwaine, you dump a terrific girl like Elena to date _that?_ ” Merlin turns on him.

“Well, that’s not very nice, Merlin! What’s got your knickers in a twist? Thought you just had a good shag.” Gwaine sits down at the table and finishes off his slice of pizza. “You know, we call can’t have posh wankers like you.”

“I can’t believe you!” Merlin tells him. “Why did you break up with Elena, anyway? I thought you were in love with her?”

Gwaine licks the grease off his lips and shrugs. “I care about her, yeah.”

“You were going to move in with her!” Merlin reminds him.

“Yeah. I thought about it. But Elena was getting too serious. Not to mention moody. It became a hassle.” Gwaine reaches for another slice of pizza. “I just thought it was time to end things, yeah? And Sylvie’s fun. Great in the sack…gives terrific head.”

Merlin just stares at Gwaine. Could it be that Gwaine was never as serious about Elena as Elena was about him?

“Merlin, mate, cheer up!” Gwaine grins. “This isn’t Noah’s ark. You can’t pair off all your friends for the flood.” Gwaine pats Merlin on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find our own way in the world.  You just concentrate on yourself and Mr. Blond Loverboy.” He winks and continues eating, leaving Merlin feeling like he somehow failed.

 

 

“Why don’t you come to Ealdor with me?” Merlin asks Arthur. They’re sitting on a bench taking off their ice skates after a rather hilarious hour of falling all over each other at the outdoor rink. Sweaters and scarves can’t quite keep out the frigid December chill, and Merlin longs for Arthur’s warm flat and a couple of mugs of hot chocolate.

“God, I think I broke both my ankles,” Arthur winces, rubbing them with fingers pink with cold.

“That’s not an answer,” Merlin tells him, gathering up their skates.

Arthur looks at him. “You really want me to meet your mother?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? I’ve met your family!”

Arthur studies his hands and shrugs. “I just don’t know if I’m the type mothers like.”

Merlin pulls Arthur to his feet. “Oh, no. Just rich and good looking and awfully good to her son, that’s all,” he says dryly. “What’s to like?”

Arthur blushes, blond hair whipping about his face in the cold wind, and Merlin gives him a squeeze. “Please come with me, Arthur. I should’ve thought of it earlier. I told Mum all about you long ago, leaving out the part where I almost lost you because I’m an idiot. She’s really dying to meet you. You can miss the office party, can’t you?”

Arthur makes a face. “I’d love to miss the office party! Father always gets drunk and does something terribly embarrassing.” He looks Merlin in the eyes, his own incredibly blue. “If you really want me to, I will.”

“I really want you to, Arthur,” Merlin says solemnly before kissing him, mouths deliciously warm.


	29. Ealdor

Who’s this new girl I’ve seen over here the past few nights?” Merlin asks Gwaine a week later as he throws clothes into his suitcase. “And what happened to Silvie with the plastic boobs?”

Gwaine sprawls all over Merlin’s bed, cracking his toes with the palms of his hand. “Silvie’s still my receptionist. I’ve been seeing Bridget, who sometimes gets her back adjusted, though now that we’re going out, maybe it’d be better if she starts seeing my partner instead.” He switches feet, glancing over at Merlin. “So are you looking forward to introducing Arty to your mam?”

“Yep.” Merlin zips up his bag. “Will you feed my fish?” Arthur gave Merlin five of the fish from the tank Morgana had delivered to his flat, and Merlin purchased a smaller aquarium that he set up in his bedroom. He likes the way it lights up the room at night and he can watch the fish swimming around through all the bubbles.

“Of course.”

“Don’t over-feed them.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Gwaine props himself on an elbow. “Say, have you heard from Elena lately?”

Merlin keeps his face carefully neutral as he lifts his suitcase and sets it by the door.

“I see her every so often.”

“Is she doing alright, then? I just worry about her sometimes.” Gwaine plays with a string on Merlin’s blue duvet.

“She’s fine,” Merlin tells him, looking around to see if he’s forgotten anything, then digs a scarf out of the closet.

“Is she seeing anyone?” Gwaine asks.

“I don’t know,” Merlin says. He stops, glancing over at Gwaine. “Would you like me to find out?”  
“What?” Gwaine looks up. “No, no. I was only curious. I would’ve liked to have ended things on a friendlier note, but she won’t answer my calls.”

“I don’t think she expected you to end things so abruptly,” Merlin tells him, wrapping a blue scarf around his neck. “Give it time, and maybe you can be friends.”

“Yeah,” Gwaine mumbles.

Merlin’s mobile beeps with a message from Arthur that he’s waiting outside. Arthur insisted upon driving rather than having them take the train, and Merlin was okay with that as long as Arthur agreed to let Merlin pay for the gas.

He tells Gwaine goodbye and hurries down to the kerb, loading his bag into the trunk of Arthur’s Porsche.

“God, it’s good to get away!” he says fervently once they’re on the road.

Arthur glances at him with a smile. “I hear old Karl-Heinz has really been putting you through your paces.”

“Shut up.” Merlin makes a face. The German man called Merlin into _Pendragon_ countless times during the past week to sniff him over. “He’s ten times creepier than Cenred ever was because I can’t understand any of the comments he makes. And he looks a regular mad-scientist, all bent over his test tubes, mumbling.” Merlin shudders.

Arthur throws his head back and laughs. It’s such a wonderful sound that Merlin laughs, too, and firmly tosses away all thoughts of the lab and the little bug-like man for the duration of their time away.

The drive from London to Ealdor is a scenic one, but it takes over five hours by car. Merlin’s mother has promised to have a big lunch prepared for them, so by the time they enter the small, winding streets of Ealdor, the two men are famished. Merlin can tell that Arthur is nervous by how quiet he’s become and by the way he grips the steering wheel tightly.

“Uncle Gaius will be there,” Merlin tells him. “You’ll like him. And Mum’s boyfriend, Oliver. They live together— _in sin_!” He gives the last two words a lecherous tone, and Arthur smiles a little.

Merlin shrugs. “Mum says marrying once was enough. Turn here.”

Arthur makes the turn, and Merlin sits up straighter, noting that they’ve built up this part of town since he last visited, and it looks different. “Make a right at this light,” he tells Arthur.

They pull onto his mother’s street, and Merlin directs Arthur to the correct house. The front door immediately pops open, and Hunith charges down the porch steps. Merlin is barely able to make it out of the car before she’s all over him, hugging him as though she hasn’t just seen him in—well, has it really been almost a year?

“My baby!” she peppers his face with kisses.

Merlin squeezes her, watching out of the corner of his eye as Gaius and Oliver greet Arthur, shaking his hand, fortunately distracting him from the display that Merlin’s mother is making.

“Okay, Mum, really, it’s great to see you, too,” he says, giving her a final hug and kiss and gently but firmly pushing her off.

“Come meet Arthur.”

Hunith smiles widely, wipes her eyes with the corner of her festive red and green apron, and directs all her motherly enthusiasm toward Arthur, who looks like he’s never been shown such attention before. His face goes alarmingly white before suffusing with pink, his eyes locking with Merlin’s as Hunith hugs and kisses him, welcoming him to their home.

“Er, thank you very much, Mrs. Emrys,” Arthur says in his most posh business voice, and Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you cute!” Hunith pinches both of Arthur’s cheeks like he’s six-years-old, and Merlin thinks for a moment that Arthur looks like he’s almost that young in his jeans and navy jumper, his blond hair all mussed from the cold wind.

“Hunith, let’s get these boys inside,” Oliver says after greeting Merlin with a hug and firm pat on the back. Merlin wraps his arm around Gaius, who looks so much older than the last time Merlin saw him, it hurts Merlin’s heart for a moment. It seems to take forever to get from the car to the porch walking at the elderly man’s pace, but Merlin stays with him, pausing along the way so Gaius can show him where the sidewalk cracked during the last blizzard.

Hunith has Arthur by the hand, and by the time Merlin makes it inside with Gaius, she’s seated Arthur in the kitchen with a cup of hot spice punch. Merlin can smell Oliver’s cigars; even though Hunith makes him smoke them on the porch, they seem to waft in every time the door opens. But Merlin likes the scent; it smells like home—Oliver’s the only dad he’s ever known, and he’s been a good one.

Gaius goes back to the living room to work on the model airplane he’s currently engaged in, and Merlin picks up Dotty the cat, putting her on his lap as he takes a seat next to Arthur, who doesn’t seem _too_ overwhelmed. Merlin looks at his childhood home through his boyfriend’s eyes, thinking it’s a bit small and shabby, with the kitchen wallpaper that’s at least twenty-years-old and the way the wind whistles through the eaves. It’s so far removed from the house in Jim’s Beard, which is the Pendragon’s _second home_ for God’s sake, it isn’t even funny. Merlin glances at Arthur, but Arthur seems perfectly content, happy, even. And he’s complimenting Merlin’s mother on her punch, making Hunith blush and _simper_. She bustles about, getting them big bowls of lamb stew and serving everyone, calling to Gaius to come into the kitchen and eat before it all gets cold.

The stew is delicious, served in large, thick bowls with chunks of cheese and whole grain bread. Merlin has forgotten how good his mother’s cooking is, and he tells her so. Everyone agrees that it’s marvelous.

“Merlin, I can’t believe you’re eating with Dotty on your lap,” Hunith admonishes, blushing and obviously trying to change the subject.

“I haven’t the heart to dump her off,” Merlin says, looking down at the purring Calico. “Wouldn’t Percy love her, Arthur?” he asks, and Arthur nods, smiling.

Merlin proceeds to tell his family about Percy and his fondness for cats, and the cats’ fondness for Percy, and soon they’re all laughing and exchanging animal stories. Arthur tells about the fish, playing down the part about Cenred’s true intentions.

“My Merlin did that?” Hunith asks in awe.

Arthur nods, looking at Merlin with what Merlin can only term adoration, and it warms him to his core.

Merlin feels himself color up to the tips of his ears, and Oliver ruffles his hair.

“Our Merlin has always been a bit of a hero,” he says fondly.

After lunch, Merlin leads Arthur upstairs to their room to unpack and rest. Gaius long ago took over the room that Merlin used as a boy, so Merlin and Arthur climb the narrow winding staircase to the attic.

“Unfortunately, it’s a big colder up here than downstairs,” Merlin tells him when they duck through the wooden door. “In summer, I have to open the window because it gets so hot.”

“We’ll just have to huddle together for warmth,” Arthur tells him with a wink, setting his suitcase down and unzipping it.

Merlin stands surveying the long room with the sloping eaves and the double bed in the corner covered with quilts. The small window overlooks the fields to the side of the house, and some crows seems to be having a heyday out there from the sound of it.

“Are you sure you don’t mind it, Arthur?” he asks softly. “This isn’t at all what you’re used to.”

Arthur comes to stand before him, putting his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, two comforting weights of warmth. He looks into Merlin’s eyes, and for a moment, Merlin’s caught in their azure depths. “You aren’t insinuating I’m a snob, are you, Merlin?” he asks with a quirk of the pouty lips that Merlin loves.

Merlin grins. “Never.” He leans in and kisses those lips softly, brushing his mouth against them before pulling away.

“I should warn you. Mum doesn’t like to actually mention her birthday, though it is tomorrow, and everyone knows it. Officially, we’re celebrating Christmas.”

Arthur smiles. “Okay.” He slips his shoes off. “Your mum said we should take a little nap. Want to?”

He leads the way to the bed, pulling back the quilts. Merlin chucks off his shoes and climbs in after Arthur. After a brief struggle for who gets to cuddle whom, they settle down with Merlin against Arthur’s chest.

Merlin’s eyes are heavy, the large meal making him pleasantly sleepy. The hair on Arthur’s arms is soft against the smooth skin of Merlin’s forearms where he anchors Arthur’s hold on Merlin’s middle, and he listens to the wind whipping around the house, sounding as though it might push it over, as the cawing of the crows fades into the distance and Merlin drifts into sleep.


	30. Oh, Christmas Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a break to work on paperlegends. Sorry about the lag.

Merlin wakes to Arthur snuffling below his ear, breath hot against his skin. One warm hand makes its way underneath Merlin’s jumper, and Merlin wiggles a bit.

“I smell gingerbread cookies,” Merlin whispers.

“I smell Merlin,” Arthur whispers back against Merlin’s skin before licking it. Merlin shifts so that his arse grinds against Arthur’s groin, and Arthur gasps.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Arthur says, pushing up against him, his fingers dipping to undo Merlin’s jeans and play with the hair trailing down beneath the waistband of his pants.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, tilting his head back and curving his neck to catch a kiss. Arthur’s tongue enters Merlin’s mouth at the same time his fingers find Merlin’s dick and curl around it, and Merlin moans.

“Just fuck me, please,” he begs into Arthur’s mouth.

“I-I don’t have --the lube's in my suitcase,” Arthur replies.

Merlin wants Arthur’s dick inside him so badly he doesn’t want to waste time getting up and rummaging through the bags. “Use spit,” he tells him.

Arthur’s breathing hard now. Merlin feels him shift on the bed, pulling his jeans down, and then hears him spitting into his hand.

“God, Merlin, shit…” Arthur pants, getting into position as Merlin pushes his arse back into him. Then Arthur’s warm cock nudges him before pushing inside, and it burns, but it’s fucking amazing, and Merlin groans loud and long, raising his leg and draping it back over Arthur’s as Arthur begins to thrust impatiently.

Arthur bites at Merlin’s neck, grunting as he pivots his hips faster and faster. Merlin loses his breath. His cock lengthens and slaps against his stomach where his jumper rides up, leaving a trail of wetness. Arthur reaches around and grabs hold of it, twisting, spreading the spunk with his thumb, making Merlin writhe and beg. Three more thrusts and Merlin’s over the edge, Arthur following close behind with a harsh cry in Merlin’s ear.

Hunith calling up the stairs moments later has them scrambling, cleaning themselves up as best they can before heading down to find everyone gathered in the living room listening to Christmas carols.

“It’s time to go cut down a tree!” Oliver says, bringing in an armful of coats and boots. Merlin looks at Arthur.

“It’s a tradition.”

“Oh, well, okay,” Arthur says gamely. “Sounds like fun. My father has an artificial tree in a box.”

“We own the woods back behind the house, and there’s plenty of pines,” Oliver tells Arthur. “Every year we go and cut one down, but every spring we plant a few more to replace it.” Olive wraps a plaid scarf around his neck.

Everyone puts on the coats, hats, scarves, and gloves, and troops outside where low, grey clouds cover the sky and its begun to flurry. The air stings Merlin’s nose, and his arse is sore as he walks. Thinking about the pounding he just got, he blushes and looks at Arthur, whose profile is nothing short of gorgeous against the falling snow as they tramp off towards the woods.

“Let’s get something along the tall side this year,” Hunith suggests, her breath puffs of white in the air. “Last year’s tree looked like a bush.”

“That was Gaius’ choice,” Oliver laughs heartily.

“I like my trees round,” Gaius tells them, keeping up pretty well now that he’s had food and a nap. Merlin notices he’s using a thick cane. “With lots of icicles. Just like when we were kids, Hunith.”

“We can’t have icicles because of Dotty,” Merlin says. “She’ll eat them and they’ll wrap around her intestines and kill her.”

“Ugh,” Arthur wrinkles his nose. “That’s…disturbing.”

“It’s true,” Merlin tells him. “They’re very dangerous to cats. Gaius, you’ll have to settle for tinsel.”

“Whatever you say, Merlin.” The old man waves his hand deferentially.

“Well, it’s going to be a tall tree this year, not round,” Hunith insists. “I could barely get around the living room last year, the thing took up so much room.”

“A round tree gave us more space for Merlin’s childhood ornaments,” Gaius points out. “Plus the lovely ones you make, Hunith.”

“Don’t try to flatter me into doing what you want, Gaius,” Hunith tells him.

“But you’re my favorite sister!”

“I’m your only sister.”

They enter the woods, where it’s much darker. It’s snowing in earnest now, and Merlin pulls his hat down over his sensitive ears.

“I think this is the tree I wanted to cut down last year,” Oliver says, pointing to a Douglas Fir several meters in.

“Oi, for Pete’s sake, you can’t possibly remember the exact tree,” Hunith argues.

“No, really, I think this is it,” Oliver tells her. “I wanted this one, but Gaius insisted on the round one.”

“Well, I don’t know if this one’s tall enough. What do you think, Merlin? Arthur?” Hunith turns to them.

Arthur looks like he’d rather not bear the responsibility, so Merlin nods. “I think it’s just right.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just saying that because your ears are cold?” his mother demands. “This is important, now. We’ll have this tree up for weeks.”

“I think this is perfect, Mum, really,” Merlin says confidently, so Oliver tells everyone to step back and begins chopping. It doesn’t take too long to drag the tree back to the house, but it does take a while to saw off the extra branches and get it into the tree stand in the living room so that it doesn’t lean one way or the other.

Before anyone knows it, it’s nine o’clock, snowing heavily outside, and everyone’s starving.

While Oliver gets out the fixings for sandwiches, Arthur takes a call on his mobile. Merlin can hear him talking to his father and then Nevin. When he ends the call, he tells Merlin, “Father’s been singing karaoke at the office party.”

“Oh—really?” Merlin asks, trying and failing to imagine it.

“Yes. Nevin said it was horrible. He wished I was there to share the embarrassment.” Arthur puts an arm around Merlin’s waist.

Everyone piles meat, cheeses, pickles, and peppers on their sandwiches and takes them to the table with a couple of bags of chips. Small ice pellets hit the windows as the wind picks up outside, making a racket.

“We can wait until tomorrow to put the lights on and decorate,” Hunith tells everyone. “I’m exhausted, and have sap sticking to my hands.”

“Just wait until you see Merlin’s ornaments from grade school, Arthur,” Oliver tells him, wiping mustard off his fingers with a napkin. “I love the Star Ship Enterprise made out of pipe cleaners.”

“My favorite is the angel Gabriel made out of a clothes pin,” Hunith smiles. “So glittery.”

“Oi,” Merlin shakes his head.

“I can’t wait to see them,” Arthur replies, squeezing Merlin’s knee.

It’s after ten by the time they head to shower and then bed. Merlin insists they share the shower, although Arthur is scandalized.

“Believe me, they’d rather us share and save the water,” Merlin tells him. They quickly strip and get in the small stall.

“No funny business,” Merlin says, soaping up first his hair and then Arthur’s. “The water heater doesn’t work very well, so we have to hurry.” Arthur rubs soapy hands all over Merlin’s body, laughing as he squirms.

“I’m ticklish!” Merlin laughs. “Oh my God, quit!”

They’re barely washed and rinsed before they’re doused with cold water, and they have to jump out.

Arthur grabs two huge towels from the linen closet and they wrap up, running up the narrow stairs to the attic two at a time and drying off as fast as they can so they can dive under the covers and curl around each other.

“Er, Arthur. Someone’s got to get up and pull the chain on the light,” Merlin says, eyeing the light bulb on the ceiling.

“You’re closer,” Arthur tells him.

“Prat.” Merlin mutters, throwing back the blankets and making a mad dash for it, jerking the chain and circling back, rolling into Arthur’s waiting arms.

The moon shines in through the window, glaring off the snow outside, and Merlin turns. “My turn to snuggle you,” he says firmly, and Arthur obediently allows himself to be spooned.

Merlin thinks nothing in the world could possibly feel better than having Arthur’s bum pressed up against him and his sweet-smelling hair against his nose.


	31. Snowmen and Photographs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy day today. Hope you all are doing well. Thanks for the comments, they are <3.

The following day Merlin wakes up alone and is surprised to find Arthur dressed and helping Merlin’s mother unwrap Christmas ornaments from a box. Oliver is already stringing lights on the tree.

“Good morning, luv!” Hunith gets up off the couch and comes to plant a kiss on Merlin’s cheek. “There’s fresh coffee made.”

Merlin turns and heads for the kitchen where Gaius is making eggs.

“You’ve got yourself a good one there,” Gaius tells Merlin.

Merlin grins and nods, pouring his coffee and taking a sip, the sharp aroma heady so early in the morning. He glances outside to see a winter wonderland.

“Better put some seed out for the birds,” Gaius comments, pushing the eggs onto a platter. “Get the potato cakes; your mother wants to eat in the dining room.”

Merlin grabs the plate and follows Gaius into the small room that contains Hunith’s large dining table, already spread out with plates, silver ware, beans, tomatoes, toast, and black pudding.

“Smells delicious,” he tells his uncle, who grunts softly and rearranges a few platters before telling Merlin to call the others in to eat.

“Breakfast,” Merlin announces, leaning into the living room where Arthur and his mother are definitely giggling over one of his school ornaments—a shepherd made solely out of dried food. Arthur quickly recovers, standing up and rearranging his facial expression, but Hunith doesn’t bother to hide her mirth.

“I’m sure your father could show me a thing or two you made out of macaroni,” Merlin tells Arthur as they sit down at the table.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, you don’t make ornaments out of macaroni at expensive private schools,” Arthur tells him snootily, and Merlin steps on his toes under the table-- accidentally, of course.

“What _do_ you make them out of, diamonds?” Merlin snorts, passing the eggs.

“Boys, boys,” Hunith admonishes as though they’re children. “Ollie, almost done with the lights?” she asks, smiling at the man sitting across from her with pine needles in his thinning hair.

“A couple more strings should do it, dear,” he tells her, taking a piece of toast off the stack and buttering it.

“Lovely. We’ll have the tree decorated by lunch.” She looks at Arthur and Merlin. “You two should make a snowman. We haven’t had one of those out front in years, and this snow’s perfect for it.”

“Mum, we’re not five,” Merlin tells her, taking a bite of scrambled eggs.

“It sounds fun,” Arthur replies, kicking Merlin’s shin so that he coughs bits of his food. “I would love to make a snowman.”

“Just don’t make a lewd one, Merlin, like you and Will did when you were twelve,” Gaius warns. “I hear the neighbors still talk of it.”

Merlin laughs, glancing at Arthur. “It was anatomically correct,” he tells him with a wink.

“Only for a porn star,” Oliver puts in, and Hunith just shakes her head.

“Mrs. Eggleston didn’t speak to me for years.”

“I suspect she took pictures and kept them under her pillow,” Oliver says, and Hunith swats him with her napkin.

 ~

Fortified by the large meal, Merlin and Arthur head outside, shoveling the walk before starting on their snowman. In the end, they make two men—a gay couple, holding snow hands, which fall off the first three times they make them before they figure out how to anchor them properly.

“Hope your mother’s neighbors are the tolerant sort these days,” Arthur says as they make their way back into the house, stripping themselves of their snowy outdoor clothes in the foyer.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Most of them are so elderly, they can’t see that far anyway,” Merlin replies, pulling Arthur in for a kiss, their cold noses smashing together.

“Hot chocolate!” Hunith calls to them from the kitchen doorway, making them both jump.

Sitting in front of the fire watching Oliver and Hunith put ornaments on the tree, drinking hot chocolate and laughing about the way there are more lights in one spot than another, Merlin finds himself wondering how he could ever have thought that commitment might be a bad thing, especially when Arthur’s head sleepily sags onto him, his nose close to Merlin’s neck. He wraps his arm around Arthur’s shoulder, pulling him in closer and letting him nap, listening to the old-timey carols his mother favors and feeling so very glad he brought Arthur to Ealdor with him.

Oliver excuses himself to go throw bird seed out back, which is really only an excuse to smoke a cigar, and Gaius goes upstairs for a nap.

“Arthur is lovely,” Hunith comments quietly, her voice just audible above the music.

Merlin’s answering smile is slow and wide. “He is, Mum,” he agrees wholeheartedly. “He really, really is.” He looks down to where Arthur’s hand rests in Merlin’s lap. He can feel every rhythmic exhale from Arthur’s nose on his neck.

“You’re happy, aren’t you, Merlin?” his mother asks.

“Very,” Merlin says on a sigh, pulling Arthur closer. He looks over at her. “So, tomorrow. Christmas dinner? And we leave the next day.”

Hunith nods. “I hope you’ll visit more often. Bring Arthur with you. Are things serious between the two of you?”

“They are for me,” Merlin tells her softly, kissing the top of Arthur’s head.

 ~

After dinner that night Merlin and Arthur sit by the fire with Merlin’s mother’s old photograph books, and Arthur laughs until he cries at Merlin in nappies and short pants and his first year picture with crooked bangs and missing front teeth. Merlin has to laugh, too, especially at the photos that feature Will, who became more and more awkward-looking the older he got. When they get to the dance picture of Will and some serious-looking girl with very large glasses and buck teeth, and Will’s brown hair is styled in a large, sloping wave threatening to break over his acne-covered face, Merlin laughs so hard he gets a stomach ache, and Arthur has tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“Is he still seeing Freya?” Arthur asks when they finally recover.

Merlin leans back on the sofa, wiping his eyes. “Yeah. He’s head over heels for her.”

“You know, I really did him a favor by setting him up for Morgana to punch him,” Arthur tells Merlin. “She would have taken his little crush and stomped on it. He’s much better off with Freya.” Arthur plays with the hair on the back of Merlin’s neck, sending delicious tremors running through him. Merlin has long suspected that the nape of his neck is one of his G spots.

“She seems very nice. She helped me convince Morgana to get me into _Pendragon_ , you know,” Merlin says.

“Hmm, a bit of a turn coat, she.”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head, turning in the seat so he faces Arthur. “A romantic! She could see we’re made for one another.”

Arthur reaches out and thumbs Merlin’s lower lip, tilting his head to one side.

“I think,” he says after a moment, “it was really rash of me to ask you to move when I did.”

Merlin’s heart sinks to his stomach at the words. Having Arthur regret asking him that hurts a lot. Arthur continues speaking, lifting his hand up to brush his knuckles across the side of Merlin’s face. “It wasn’t fair to ask you so quickly. We hardly knew one another. It was no wonder you were scared.”

Merlin stills Arthur’s hand by catching it with his. “Don’t blame yourself, Arthur. I acted unreasonably. There were a hundred better things I could have said and done, no matter how scared I was at the thought.” He turns Arthur’s hand and kisses the palm. “I’m just glad you took me back.”

Arthur leans in, presses his lips to Merlin’s, and the very tips of their tongues touch. “I couldn’t stay away from you, Merlin,” Arthur breathes. Merlin trembles, his cock stirring restlessly. “I want to take you upstairs and touch you everywhere,” Arthur whispers, although everyone else has gone to bed. He runs his tongue over Merlin’s lower lip. “Then I want to taste you everywhere.”

Merlin closes the book of photographs and squeezes Arthur’s hand. “What are we waiting for?”

Arthur grins wolfishly.


	32. Last Day in Ealdor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot going on, so I've been delayed. Here's the next bit.  
> Changed one little bit from earlier having to do with Hunith's birthday just to make it on this day rather than the day before.  
> The title of this chapter sounds like a movie!

 

The yearly Christmas dinner at Merlin’s house includes Oliver’s sister Louise, her husband, Bart, and Hunith’s best friend Agatha, who never married. Some years Will’s mother attends, but this time she is on a cruise with Will’s sister and her family.

The old house fills with one good smell upon another as the day’s cooking progresses, and as the guests arrive, everyone brings Hunith a birthday present, although she insists that she never has birthdays anymore. Oliver slips out to the bakery early in the day to get a red velvet cake, Hunith’s favorite, and it sits on the side table under a glass cover.

The Christmas presents that Merlin brought for his family are to be left under their tree until the twenty-fifth, as their tradition since Merlin moved to London has been to unwrap them over the phone on Christmas Day. Merlin has already put his in the trunk of Arthur’s car, noting with a smile that this year his mother included one for Arthur. Merlin isn’t sure what Arthur will be doing on Christmas Day; they haven’t discussed it, but he hopes they’ll see one another sometime.

The Bobbins from next door drop by, which isn’t surprising, since they usually do when there’s a gathering. They are a very old couple that Hunith often sends leftovers to by way of Oliver because she says she’s afraid they might be eating their cats’ food sometimes—they are that addled, and with no children to take care of them.

Mr. Bobbin keeps telling Arthur how fit he is, and Arthur keeps sending Merlin looks that crack him up—something bordering on “watch out, you have competition!” which is utterly ludicrous when faced with ninety-year-old arthritic Mr. Bobbin with the single bit of hair on top of his head. (He looks a bit like a Kewpie doll, Merlin thinks.)

“I’ve set place tags,” Hunith tells everyone as they gather around the table, so they bend to look to see where they’re to sit. The tags are cut out of colored paper and in the shape of ornaments. Merlin and Arthur helped her put glitter on them that afternoon, and Arthur still has silver glitter in his hair, which Mr. Bobbin proclaimed ‘fetching’ when he noticed it. Merlin sees the old man surreptitiously switch place tags with his oblivious wife so he can sit next to Arthur, and raises a brow.

“Should I be worried?” Merlin leans in and asks Arthur as they shuffle about, heartbeat picking up, his body reacting from memory of the night previous when Arthur’s tongue mapped a trail all over it. Merlin’s back gives a twinge from long moments of being doubled up, legs hooked over Arthur’s arms, as Arthur nailed him while staring into Merlin’s eyes like something wild. Merlin came without his cock being touched, spunk splashing all the way to his chin when Arthur said hoarsely, “Feel me inside you, Merlin? Feel me splitting you in two?”

“I think you can be steadfast in your faith in me,” Arthur tells him with a teasing smirk before moving to seat himself across the table from him.

Merlin definitely senses a shift in Arthur’s behavior on this trip. He’s become bolder; he frequently puts his arm around Merlin’s waist or shoulder; he is less reticent about smelling Merlin’s neck, or just taking what he needs in general. That morning, after their hurried three-minute shower to beat the water heater, Arthur backed Merlin up against the bathroom wall, pinning Merlin’s arms above his head before running his nose from Merlin’s elbow down to his armpit, nuzzling him there, whispering, “You beautiful, beautiful man,” until Merlin was rock hard and dripping. Then Arthur dropped to his knees and gave similar attention to Merlin’s groin area, nudging Merlin’s legs open with his nose before taking Merlin’s sac between his lips and sucking on it, occasionally letting it slip out of his mouth with obscene pops that seemed loud in the room, but Merlin couldn’t find the will to care, it felt so fucking amazing.

It wasn’t long before Merlin came all over Arthur’s gorgeous face, concentrating on those red, pouty lips.

Merlin’s in a daze, remembering, and he gradually becomes aware of what’s going on around him. Mrs. Bobbin is talking about the seventh cat they recently took in. Gaius has turned on a Justin Bieber Christmas cd, and Hunith passes the chestnut stuffing round the table. Oliver carves the goose, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Agatha, Louise, and Bart are smiling and chatting, scooping food onto their plates before passing it along.

“I don’t recognize any of these songs,” Louise says after they’ve been eating a while.

“That’s because these aren’t traditional carols,” Hunith tells her dryly. “My brother insists on playing his new cd by some teenage boy.”

“It’s not so bad,” Agatha comments, biting into a roasted potato. She’s seated next to Gaius, and she gives the old man a smile.

“Hunith doesn’t appreciate today’s music,” Gaius tells her. “She’s stuck in the past. Even when we were young, remember, Aggie? She was always behind the times.”

Merlin’s mother looks offended. “Just because I don’t like the wailings of a nineteen-year-old singing trash I’ve never heard before doesn’t mean I’m stuck in the past, Gaius Augustus!”

“Uh, oh, Uncle Gaius,” Merlin teases, “she used your middle name. You’re in trouble now.”

Gaius harrumphs. “Let’s not forget who’s older, Hunith.”

“Way older,” Hunith reminds him.

“I’m not senile yet.” Gaius’s shaggy white eyebrows dip low.

Oliver pats the old man’s hand. “No one’s calling you senile.”

“This goose is delicious!” Bart cuts in. “Everything is. I particularly love the sprouts. My garden didn’t do so well this year.” The conversation turns to gardening, and Merlin looks to Arthur to see how he’s fairing. He’s calmly eating his parsnips and listening to everyone, seemingly unbothered by the family squabbling and unaware that Mr. Bobbin keeps touching his arm on purpose. Merlin’s beginning to think Bobbin’s a dirty old man.

After mince pie that Hunith made, along with the bakery cake, Gaius unbuttons his pants and declares that he’s never eating again.

“No one makes mince pie like my sister,” he smiles up at her, sibling rivalry passed, and she pats his shoulder as she scoots by his chair to get the coffee.

“It certainly is delicious,” Arthur tells them. “Much better than any I’ve ever had.”

“Is your mother a good cook?” Louise asks Arthur.

“My mother died when I was young,” Arthur answers. “But we had a wonderful cook in our employ for years. I don’t think she did as well as this, though.”

Hunith beams at him, and Arthur smiles, blushing a bit at the motherly attention. Merlin wants to crawl over the table and snog him senseless and has to avert his gaze lest he be caught staring at Arthur like he’s something edible. Which he is. Quite. Deliciously edible.

Merlin swallows.

“I’ll bet you have a lovely girlfriend,” Mrs. Bobbin says, and it’s a little like a splash of cold water in Merlin’s face. He isn’t sure if the Bobbins know that Merlin is gay or if they knew it and have forgotten due to their age. It’s even possible that the know it, don’t approve, and choose to ignore it. He’s not sure it’s worth explaining or arguing about with two elderly people stuck in their ways.

“Arthur is Merlin’s boyfriend,” Hunith says, before Merlin can think any more about it, and this is one of the reasons Merlin loves his mum, because Merlin really thinks he’d rather die than deny his relationship with Arthur.

“Merlin’s?” Mrs. Bobbin looks across the table at Merlin, and he gives her a bright smile. She seems confused, but she doesn’t say anything else.

Mr. Bobbin seems to take fresh interest in Arthur, who only grins at him in return and pats the old man’s arm.

When the pie has been eaten and cleared from the table, everyone takes their coffee to the living room, where the tree looks particularly lovely in the dim light. Agatha announces she has to leave, due to an early shift at the hospital where she’s a nurse in the A&E. Hunith and Oliver see her out. Merlin and Arthur settle down on the sofa together without an inch between them. Gaius chuckles as he changes the cd to Christina Aguilera’s _My Kind of Christmas_ , no doubt knowing his sister won’t like it any better.

Arthur holds Merlin’s hand tightly in his grip, their fingers entwined. Merlin curls his ankle around Arthur’s where their legs stretch out before them. He thinks that if he could crawl into Arthur’s clothes with him, he would do it.

“Uh!” Hunith grunts immediately when she comes back in the room and sits down. “What is that rubbish you’re playing now, Gaius?”

Oliver settles into a chair with his coffee and begins telling about something funny that happened in the bakery that morning when he went to pick up the cake. Louise has a laugh a bit like a donkey’s bray, and every time she lets one out, Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand.

Bart tells a story about a time when they were setting off fireworks and a load caught a spark and went off every which way, and Louise begins braying so uncontrollably, that Arthur almost cuts Merlin’s circulation off, and Merlin finds he can’t look at Arthur or he will burst into laughter that obviously won’t be directed at the story.

When things die down, Mr. Bobbin lets out a sudden snore from his place in the over-sized chair by the fireplace.

“Oh, dear, how will I get Bob home now?” his wife laments, shaking her head so that her gray curls bounce.

“We’ll help,” Arthur offers kindly, untangling himself from Merlin and tugging him up after him.

Arthur gently shakes Mr. Bobbin awake.

“Eh?” old Bobbin blinks up at him. “Why, it’s Prince Charming! Right out of the Cinderella fairytale.”

“You crazy old man,” Mrs. Bobbin scolds as Oliver helps her into her coat, “it’s wee Merlin’s boyfriend, Arthur. They’re going to help us home.”

Merlin gives old Mrs. Bobbin a grin as he holds the elderly man’s overcoat ready for him.

“Thought he might ask you for love’s first kiss there for a moment,” Merlin murmurs to Arthur as they put their own jackets on, and Arthur laughs.

“You’re mixing up your fairy tales, _wee Merlin_ ,” he says, his eyes merry.  They proceed at a very slow pace out the back door and across the yard. The moon glistens off the snow, lighting their way.

“The kitties will be hungry,” Mrs. Bobbin tells them as they take the back steps one by one and enter the kitchen door.

After what seems like forever standing in the biting cold, Mr. Bobbin gets the door unlocked. The small house smells like the elderly and old kitty litter, but it’s fairly clean. Merlin’s has heard his mother say that a woman comes once a week. They help the Bobbins out of their coats, politely look at their photos and pet their cats, and then start back across the lawn.

“I’m really glad you came with me,” Merlin tells Arthur, stopping outside the back door to his mother’s house.

“I’m glad I came,” Arthur leans his forehead against Merlin’s, his warm breath ghosting over Merlin’s mouth. Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur, pulling him closer.

“Arthur, I love you,” Merlin says, heart full. “I really, really, really just love you.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Arthur’s warm, dry lips.

Arthur’s eyes shine, his nose is cold against Merlin’s. “I love you, too, Merlin,” he tells him quietly, before covering his mouth with his again.


	33. Gwaine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who read the last chapter early, I had a few mistakes that I've taken care of. Most tense and stuff, but I did accidentally that Arthur's mum died at birth. Changed it to when he was young. Sorry about that. Thanks for the comment--love them! Make me feel like a million bucks, and I can use that about now. <3

Merlin always feels a bit like shite when he leaves his mum, as though he’s four-years-old again. But this time, leaving with Arthur, it isn’t too bad, and the road trip back is quiet and comfortable.

Arthur drops Merlin off with a kiss and a promise to see him the following day. Merlin enters his flat to find it quiet and surprisingly clean, for Gwaine having been there alone.  Obviously the man hasn’t had any orgies while Merlin’s been gone. The trash is a bit smelly, so Merlin ties it up and puts it outside the door.

While Merlin’s unpacking, he hears Gwaine arrive, keys hitting the table and shoes tumbling into the closet.

Gwaine appears in the doorway looking tired, his eyes bloodshot and clothes wrinkled.

“In here, mate!” he calls to him, although he’s pretty sure Gwaine’s figured out he’s home, as there are no trash fairies in existence, and they certainly do not have a maid.

“Your eyes are actually drooping,” Merlin tells him as he closes his dresser drawer and turns to survey his friend. “Have you been partying too hard while I’ve been away?”

Gwaine shrugs listlessly and throws himself onto Merlin’s mattress.

“Oi, don’t break the bed,” Merlin admonishes, coming to sit down on the edge by Gwaine’s head.

Gwaine peers at him from under his lanky fringe. “If you and Poshdragon haven’t broken it yet with your acrobatics, I’m not about to do it.”

Merlin means to sneer, but it comes out more like a dopey smile.

“Things going that well, are they?” Gwaine asks softly. “I’m glad, Merlin.”

Merlin reaches out to pet Gwaine’s hair, which he finds to be disturbingly gnarled. “Gwaine, are you all right?”

“Sure. I’m fine, mate.” Gwaine mumbles into Merlin’s pillow.

“But…your hair…have you combed it lately?” Merlin lifts up a piece. “Or _washed_ it for that matter?” It’s unheard of for Gwaine not to take care of his stunning hair, and Merlin can’t help but be concerned.

“Oh, leave off, would you?” Gwaine pushes Merlin’s hand away. “You’re not my mother.”

“No, but I’m your friend,” Merlin tells him. “Has something happened?”

Gwaine rolls off the bed. “If you’re going to needle me, I’m out of here,” he mutters, leaving the room. Merlin hears him puttering around in the kitchen. Closing the bedroom door, Merlin takes out his mobile and sends a group text to their friends asking if they’ve been around Gwaine in the past few days while Merlin’s been out of town. Then he finishes putting his things away and tucks his suitcase in the closet.

Will is the first to get back to him, saying he saw Gwaine in a pub getting smashed the night before. He appeared to be alone, and disappeared before Will and Freya could get near enough to talk to him.

Gwen and Lance say they haven’t seen nor talked to Gwaine.

Elena’s text comes through last.

_??? Really? What do you think?_

Merlin texts her, _Sorry. How are you feeling?_

_All right between throw-ups. G did try to contact me several days ago. I don’t want to talk to him._

Merlin bites his lip. He taps out, _I really think you should. Plus, he looks like shite,_ and sends it.

There is a long period of time when Elena doesn’t text back. So long, that Merlin decides she isn’t going to, and calls Pam to see who is scheduled for massages the following day. People are starting to receive gift certificates as Christmas gifts, and business is picking up. Pam tells Merlin he has a full schedule, and he better use his last day of vacation wisely.

As they end the call, Elena’s text comes through.

_What’s wrong with him?_

Merlin smiles, glad she’s at least interested. He tells her, _I don’t think he’s sleeping. He’s definitely not washing or combing his hair!!!_

He puts a shocked emotion at the end of the message and sends it. Elena’s response is immediate. His mobile rings.

“What the fuck, Merlin?  You’d better not be shitting me,” Elena exclaims, her voice breathless.

“I’m not, Elena. I just got back from Ealdor, and Gwaine’s hair looks like…well, it just doesn’t look good, all right? It’s lank and lifeless, and…gnarled! My fingers got caught in it!”

Elena gasps. “Oh, my God! Did you ask him what’s wrong?”

“Of course. He won’t tell me, but I think he’s depressed. Will saw him out drinking alone last night.”

“You mean he didn’t have one of his brazen bimbos with him?” Elena asks bitterly. “I’ve heard all about them from his partner, Darla.”

“Right. Elena, please come over. You need to talk to him. Please. I really hate being in the middle of this, and I don’t know how much longer I can continue to keep secrets from Gwaine.”

Elena is silent for long ticks of the clock. Finally, she whispers, “Okay. I’ll be there in an hour or so.” She hangs up, and Merlin does a victory fist. He texts Arthur about it, then gets up and goes into the kitchen where Gwaine is listlessly eating something leftover from the fridge.

“Ew, what is that?” Merlin asks, eyeing the odd lump.

“Dinner from the other night,” Gwaine tells him.

Merlin starts to ask what it was supposed to be then, but stops. He really doesn’t want to know.

“Got any plans this afternoon?” he asks instead, foraging for food. There isn’t much.

“Nope,” Gwaine replies.

“Did you do anything special while I was out of town?”

Gwaine shakes his head. He looks at Merlin, his dark eyes a little sad. “Do you think I was wrong to break up with Elena?”

Merlin takes a seat across from him. “That depends, mate. Why exactly _did_ you break up with her?”

Gwaine fiddles with a napkin. “I…I don’t know. It just suddenly seemed that moving in together was too much. And she got really weird there for a while, like maybe she wanted more. I didn’t think I did.”

“And now?” Merlin asks gently.

“Now…” Gwaine shifts in his chair. “After being single again, I remember what it’s like. And it doesn’t seem so great anymore. I don’t know, I’m thinking maybe I made the biggest mistake in my life. And she won’t talk to me. I’m miserable, and I’ve cancelled all my appointments the last few days. Haven’t even bathed.”

Merlin stands up. “Let me make you a good meal, okay? You want to shower?”

Gwaine frowns. “Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that. Go take a shower, and then I’ll feed you.”

Gwaine sighs and pushes himself up from the table. “You drive a hard bargain, mate.” He heads for the bathroom.

By the time Elena gets there, Gwaine looks better, hair wet and belly full. When he sees her, his face goes all soft, and Merlin’s happy to see that Elena’s does, too. Merlin slips into his bedroom to give them some privacy.

Merlin’s mobile has exploded with texts from Arthur wanting to know what’s going on, so Merlin calls him and fills him in.

“That is so romantic,” Arthur sighs into the phone.

“Aw, you sound like a sixteen-year-old girl,” Merlin teases.

“Shut up,” Arthur tells him. “I’m certain you’ve already dissolved into a puddle of goo yourself. I wish you were here so we could have a celebratory shag.”

“I’m still a bit sore from the other night when you bent me like a pretzel,” Merlin tells him. “It may be a while.”

“You’ll just have to have me, then,” Arthur suggests silkily. “Preferably bent over my couch.”

“Now, that isn’t fair at all!” Merlin objects, palming himself. “I can’t get over there right now. I’d have to interrupt the goings-on in the other room, plus you’re across town and I have to work all day tomorrow. And didn’t you say you’re working at home today?”

“I can’t help it,” Arthur sounds like he’s pouting, and that just makes Merlin harder. “I need a little pixie dust.”

“Is that what we’re calling it, _Prince Charming_?” Merlin sucks in a breath between his teeth and deliberates climbing out the window and down the fire escape. “God, you make me hard.”

“Touch yourself, Merlin,” Arthur tells him in dulcet tones. “And think about how I’d like you to bend me over my leather couch, lick me open until I beg for it, and then ram that perfect cock of yours inside me until I scream your name.”

“Arthur!” Merlin groans, his hand already inside his pants and tugging on himself.

“And then I’d like you to lick your cum out of my arse,” Arthur says hoarsely, his own breath hitching, and Merlin can picture him lying on his big bed with its red sheets, all spread out and stroking his fat cock until its ready to spill.

That vision makes Merlin see stars, and he cums in violent jerks, spilling into his hand.

“Oh, fuck…” Arthur moans, gasping. “Ah…ah…ahhhh.”

They listen to one another breathe. Merlin reaches for the tissues by the bed and wipes himself up. He hears a thud from the room next door. The squeak of the bed. A low moan, and then Elena’s high-pitched squeal. Rhythmic squeaking and thudding of the headboard against the wall.

“They’ve made up,” Merlin tells Arthur, his voice hoarse. “They’re about to knock a hole in the wall.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur sighs. “Love you, Pixie.”

“Love you, too, my sweet prince.” Merlin ends the call and gets up to take a shower, thankful for a working water heater.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	34. Pendragon Christmas Dinner

 

The Pendragon estate is more impressive than Merlin ever thought it would be, with its manicured lawns and rooms the size of Merlin’s entire flat. Arthur has invited him for Christmas dinner, which is held in the imposing dining room with its three chandeliers and antique sideboard and matching dining set that seats twelve. Mordred and his mother, Philippa, join them, along with Morgana and her new boyfriend, Elwin. Elwin has several facial piercings and spiky green hair, and he doesn’t seem to think much of homosexuals, which makes things a bit uncomfortable, to say the least. Mordred spends a lot of time staring at him without blinking.

“More plum pudding?” Nevin offers Elwin, who grunts assent and watches as Nevin puts several large portions of it on his plate.

“Did you cook this?” Elwin asks Nevin, mouth full of it.

“Yes, I did,” Nevin smiles cordially.

“It’s good. Good as me mam’s.” He smiles, showing his gold tooth. “Poof cook good,” he proclaims.

Arthur wrinkles his nose at Morgana, disgusted. He’s warned Merlin before they came that his sister normally brings a different bloke every year, each worse than the last. The other guests politely ignore Elwin as he eats with his mouth open, only jumping slightly when he lets out a loud belch, but Uther, the target of the whole ordeal, seems unaffected.

“Merlin, your cologne is coming right along,” Uther tells him, heaping a generous portion of pudding on his plate. “Karl-Heinz is a regular demon in the lab, much better than Cenred. It’s turned into a good thing that you revealed him to be the degenerate that he is, Arthur. We’re hoping to have _Merlin_ in stores for Valentine’s Day.”

“Really? That soon? Wow,” Merlin’s impressed. “I can’t believe there will be a cologne out there with my name on it.”

Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand under the table. “It’s very quick. Usually it takes much longer--Originally Father had Halloween in mind.”

“Yes,” Uther says, “I was going to highlight the whole magic theme, but things are going so well; there’s no need to wait that long.”

The doorbell rings, a melodious sound, and a moment later Leon and Percy enter the room. “Have we come in time for some of your wonderful dessert, Nev?” Leon asks, pecking the man on the cheek. Leon and Percy have on matching jumpers with a reindeer on the front, and Arthur wastes no time teasing them about it as Nevin gets them plates.

“You’re just jealous, Arthur,” Percy laughs. “Don’t worry—there may be something similar in those boxes we left at your place!”

Arthur gives Merlin a scared look, and Merlin smiles.

“Let’s all take our dessert and coffee into the den, shall we?” Nevin suggests, leading the way.

The “den” turns out to be a huge room with a gigantic fire place, two couches, and a large fur rug on one end; and a bar, pool table, and dart board on the other. Huge double doors leading out onto a patio reveal a torrent of snowfall outside covering the topiary garden and the statue guarding the magnificent fountain. Merlin tries not to stare in awe.

There is a massive tree set up in the corner of the room decorated with bronze and silver balls and what appears to Merlin to be pheasant feathers. So far there has been a decorated tree in every room that Merlin’s been in, including the bathroom. Merlin can’t help but be glad that he hadn’t seen Arthur’s home before their trip to Ealdor, or he would have been much more embarrassed about his mother’s house and their holiday celebration.

A butler brings in a tray with the coffee pot and cups and begins pouring. To the relief of most of the gathering, Elwin and Morgana announce that they are leaving to attend a party. Mordred also replies that he must get his mother home. Philippa is a small, gentle woman who’s remained generally quiet throughout the meal. She is obviously genuinely fond of Nevin, and warmly kisses him goodbye.

“Give us a call soon,” she tells him as Nevin hugs her to him, wishing her well, before patting his son on the back and seeing them to the door. Merlin wonders if Philippa was ever in love with Nevin, settling on having his child if she couldn’t have him. Watching them together, he thinks it highly likely.

Arthur takes a seat at the end of one of the couches and pats the place beside him. Merlin follows, glancing up at the large portrait over the fireplace of a tall, solemn man with eyes that look faraway. When Arthur sees where Merlin is looking, he comments, “My grandfather, Constans Pendragon.” Merlin nods, staring at the stately man who did have a bit of Uther around the mouth, but none of Arthur that Merlin could see. There was a portrait of Arthur’s mother, Igraine, in another room, and it was obvious to Merlin where Arthur got his looks. Blond, aristocratic, beautiful mouth and eyes—he was Igraine made over.

“Constans became a monk after his wife died,” Arthur tells Merlin, and Merlin looks again at the sad eyes of the man in the picture.

When Merlin turns his attention to the conversation, Uther is excitedly telling Leon and Percy about the cologne and the speedy work of the German he’d brought in to take Cenred’s place.

“Speaking of Cenred,” Leon says, sipping his coffee, legs crossed, “he will be standing before a judge on the twenty-seventh.” He glances at Arthur. “I expect he will get off with a hefty fine, having no previous record, unless…”

“No, I don’t want to bring attempted rape charges into it,” Arthur says firmly. “Just let it lie. He only threatened, anyway; I don’t know if he would’ve gone through with it.”

Merlin squeezes Arthur’s hand, knowing he’s more agitated than he appears. He’s had the occasionally nightmare about Cenred, although Merlin’s never been there to witness it. It makes Merlin want to find Cenred and kick his teeth in.

“We don’t want to drag a Pendragon’s name through the mud,” Uther dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand, and by the set of Nevin’s mouth, he appears to disagree with this, but he doesn’t say anything. “Although, Percy, I expect you to keep an eye on Arthur, as we’ve discussed.”

“That is completely unnecessary,” Arthur replies hotly. “If he hadn’t taken me by surprise, Cenred never would have gotten me in that predicament in the first place, and I highly doubt that he’s stalking me now.”

“Be that as it may, you are my son and heir, and we will proceed on the side of caution until we are sure of it,” Uther tells him in a tone that brooks no argument.

Arthur’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing, although his fingers on his cup are so white that Merlin fears he will snap the delicate china in two.

Choral Christmas music suddenly seems to ooze from the walls, although Merlin imagines it’s some kind of fancy speaker system that the butler’s switched on. The rise and fall of the chanting voices is almost too eerie for a holiday, in his opinion, but this seems to be regular fare for the Pendragon household, as no one blinks an eye. Uther seems comfortable, lounging back on the opposite sofa, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He’s wearing dark slacks and a red jumper, but Merlin notices that his socks are Christmas socks, with the Grinch featured on them. Merlin doesn’t mean to, but he laughs aloud when he sees them, and Nevin, following Merlin’s eyes, grins widely.

“I see you’ve noticed Budge’s socks. I gave those to him. Fitting, eh?”

Uther grunts. “He makes me wear them every year. I actually have several pairs.”

To Merlin’s surprise, Uther slips off his expensive leather shoes and stretches his feet, showing off the socks. Nevin kisses him on the head before laying his head wearily on Uther’s shoulder. A crease appears between Uther’s brows, and he wraps an arm around Nevin, whispering something in his ear. Nevin replies back with a pat on his leg.

Merlin looks to Arthur, who seems to miss the exchange altogether, instead concentrating on something that Percy is saying. Merlin has often wondered about Nevin’s health, having noticed that he eats very little, often has stomach problems, and tires easily. He’s thought about mentioning it to Arthur, but he doesn’t want to worry him. Now, watching Uther and Nevin in an unguarded moment, he can see the tired lines on Nevin’s face and the worry in Uther’s eyes, and it tightens Merlin’s stomach. He swallows, looks around, and abruptly meets Leon’s gaze.

He’s noticed it, too, Merlin thinks.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, realizing how exhausted Nevin probably is, “perhaps we should be getting home? I’m expecting a phone call from my mother.”

“Yes,” Leon agrees, getting up. “Percy and I have to deliver some gifts.” He approaches the men on the couch. “Nev, the mince pie was the best I’ve had today. No, don’t get up, we’ll see ourselves out.”

“Thank you, for the wonderful meal,” Merlin tells Uther and Nevin sincerely. “Your home is lovely.” When he meets Uther’s eyes, the look in them is half-gutted, half-grateful, as though he realizes that Merlin has figured something out. It hurts Merlin’s soul. The man’s love and need for his mate lays Uther open like a wound, and Merlin wants to help him cover it. Seconds later, Uther’s face has cleared and he tells his son goodbye, giving him an unusually demonstrative hug.

“Wonder what was up with Father there at the end of dinner,” Arthur says when they’re outside walking to their cars.

“Tired, I expect,” Leon replies casually, and he sends Merlin a look. _Not yet_ , it says. Leon gives him a little, uneasy shrug and he and Percy climb into their jeep, waving goodbye.

“That was a spectacular meal,” Merlin says as he settles in for the drive. “I’ve never eaten so much in my life.”

Arthur laughs. “Who are you kidding, Merlin? You eat like a bloody horse. I don’t know how you stay so slim.” He maneuvers out of the driveway with a farewell honk of the horn to Leon and Percy. “Will you stay at mine tonight? You can call your mum in privacy.”

“Sure,” Merlin says. “I was hoping you’d ask.” He’d already opened presents with his family over the phone that morning. He settles down, enjoying the Porsche’s heated seat.

Because Merlin dared him to, Arthur gives him a piggy back ride into his building, which earns him some strange looks from the security guards and a couple returning from a party.

“Oof—so heavy!” Arthur groans when he sets Merlin down inside the lift. “God, you weigh a ton!”

Merlin laughs. “Thanks. I was hoping for more of a dashing stallion to ride, actually, but you were more of an old draft horse.”

“Oi!” Arthur smacks Merlin’s arse, barely giving him time to duck the brunt of it. “I’ll let you ride a stallion, boy!” Arthur pulls Merlin close, kissing him fiercely and allowing him to feel the hard length of Arthur’s erection pressing eagerly forward.

They barely stumble into the flat before Arthur’s got Merlin’s coat and jumper off, pushing his hands under Merlin’s soft T-shirt to twiddle his nipples between thumbs and forefingers.

Merlin sucks on Arthur’s neck, unrepentant of the marks he’s leaving there as his back crashes against the wall in the foyer, the steel in Arthur’s pants grinding into Merlin’s thigh.

“So, Christmas makes you randy, eh?” Merlin asks shakily, lifting his head up to meet Arthur’s eyes.

“ _You_ make me randy, Pixie,” Arthur replies, ducking his head to lick a line up Merlin’s jaw to his ear. Then he’s snuffling in Merlin’s hair, and Merlin’s so hard he’s light-headed for lack of blood there. With shaking fingers, he gets Arthur’s slacks undone and yanks them down, helping him to step out of them.

The sight of Arthur wearing only socks and his jumper is sexy as hell, and Merlin whips his own pants off as fast as he can with Arthur groping at him, nosing at the softness of Merlin’s T-shirt under his arm.

“Fuck, I need lube!” Merlin whines, and Arthur lifts his head, looking at him with a lust-drugged eyes.

“Huh? Oh…” he moves backward, leaving Merlin bereft while he stumbles into the bathroom, coming back with a large tube of it. Merlin immediately clamps his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and jumps into his arms, bare legs wrapping around Arthur’s waist. Arthur staggers a moment before righting himself and pushing Merlin back against the wall, his hands fumbling with the tube.

A moment later, and slick fingers open Merlin up. Merlin groans into Arthur’s mouth, his tongue pushing against Arthur’s, sliding and licking. “Now, nowfuckingnow,” he breathes, and Arthur pushes into him, holding him up under his arms so that it isn’t too much too soon, and Merlin gasps, leaning his head back against the wall. Arthur’s cock is fat and delicious and spreads him open so _good_. Merlin bounces on it, and Arthur cries out into Merlin’s neck. He takes fists full of Merlin’s T-shirt and pushes it up, and Merlin helps him to get it over his head. Raising his arms, he grabs hold of the door frame with his fingers as Arthur fucks up and into him, over and over again, sometimes pausing to lap at Merlin’s nipples or suck at the hairs under his arms.

Merlin’s on fire; his arse is on fire. He wiggles, impaling himself even more, making noises that he’s sure he’s never made before. Arthur babbles as he licks and sucks, telling Merlin how pretty he is, how wonderful he smells, how much he loves him, and Merlin thinks he would cry if he could spare the brain cells to send the message to his tear ducts. He tightens his legs around Arthur’s waist and holds on as Arthur pounds into him, their bodies slapping together lewdly.

Merlin looks down, past Arthur’s wrecked face to where Merlin’s dick bounces between them, hard, red, and pointing straight up like a thick arrow. Arthur tries to lower his mouth to it, but he can’t reach, and his hands are busy holding Merlin up. He staggers forward, circling around the door frame so that they’re in the hall and Merlin’s back is flat against a wall again. This frees Arthur’s hands, and he reaches for Merlin’s cock, stripping it with fingers still wet with lube.

Merlin growls low in his throat, clenching his arse up and letting it back down again, over and over until Arthur starts grunting in a way that make Merlin’s cock dribble. Then he’s shooting off, and Arthur’s bringing his hand to his own mouth and licking Merlin’s cum off it, sucking it from his fingers like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, and Merlin dies a little with love.

Two, three more thrusts and Arthur’s face dissolves in ecstasy, his mouth falling open, and eyes getting wide and teary.  Breathing hard, Merlin leans in and kisses Arthur softly, on the lips, cheek, nose, forehead, curling his fingers into soft blond hair and burying his face in Arthur’s neck. Arthur turns his face so he can smell Merlin’s hair, tucking his nose just behind Merlin’s ear in a gesture that’s become endearingly well-known to Merlin.

Slowly, Merlin lowers his legs, and Arthur slides out of him. Merlin can’t help but wince because, _shit, Arthur’s cock is big, and that was one marathon fuck they just had._

Legs trembling, they head for the shower, helping one another wash up before drying off. Merlin goes to make the call to his mum, and then he tumbles into Arthur’s big bed, scooting close to Arthur, wrapping his arms around him, chest to chest, resting his cheek on his shoulder for a long moment before they settle more comfortably, feet entangled.

Merlin had deliberated long and hard about what to get Arthur for Christmas. In the end, he wound up cooking him his favorite meal the night before, giving him a long foot massage, and then presenting him with two tickets to an opera Arthur had talked about wanting to see.

Arthur had shyly given Merlin a framed photo of Merlin with his family that Arthur had taken while they were in Ealdor. The picture was wonderful with the old house behind them, and even Dot the cat in Merlin’s arms. Merlin had forgotten that Arthur had taken several pictures that day. Even better, Arthur also gave Merlin an ornament engraved with the words _Our First Christmas Together._ Knowing that Arthur expected them to have more to come meant more to Merlin than he could say.

Falling asleep with Arthur’s heart beating beneath his ear, Merlin can’t help but smile to himself.


	35. New Year's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, those who faithfully continue to comment! <3

After missing the office Christmas party, Arthur says he feels he must attend the New Year’s bash.

“Fortunately, it’s an unofficial party that my father knows nothing about,” he grins when he tells Merlin about it. Evidently, it’s held at a local club, and the older execs are none the wiser—or else they turn a blind eye to it. And it’s actually quite fun.

“So, what about it, Mr. Emrys?” Arthur asks, snuggling up close to him. “Will you be my date?”

They are in Merlin’s bed, Arthur having come by after work. They’ve had precious little time to spend together since Christmas, but Arthur announced he’d make time, by God, and it was worth it to lose a bit of sleep if it meant holding Arthur like this, skin to skin again.

“Of course, my lovely prince. I will follow you to the ends of the earth,” Merlin answers, peppering Arthur’s face with sloppy kisses. Half an hour ago he’d been buried deep inside of Arthur, making him beg. Merlin is exhausted, and he lets his head sag onto Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur chuckles. “You look completely blissed out.” He glances at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s after midnight. Better get to sleep, my little pixie. Work tomorrow.” Arthur settles down deeper under the covers, and Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur, grinning to himself as Arthur presses his nose into Merlin’s chest. Merlin’s so tired he doesn’t remember anything else until Arthur’s restless muttering wakes him up.

Merlin blinks into the darkness, unsure of what’s going on, but then he realizes that Arthur is jerking in his arms, mumbling incoherently.

“Arthur?” Merlin runs his hands over Arthur’s body in the darkness, finding it covered in sweat. “Arthur!” he shakes Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur startles and pushes at Merlin a moment before stopping and settling back on the mattress, breathing unsteadily. “S-sorry, sorry. Bad dream.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Merlin cards his fingers through Arthur’s damp hair.

“Woke you up,” Arthur breathes.

Merlin settles down on his side and kisses Arthur’s temple. “It’s okay. Was it the dream about—Cenred?”

Arthur nods jerkily. “It’s stupid, really,” he says, taking Merlin’s hand and threading their fingers together. “He didn’t do anything to me. Just pushed me against the cabinet.”

“He threatened you,” Merlin reminds him. “It’s not stupid.”

After a moment Arthur says quietly, “I really think he was going to do it, Merlin. I could feel him behind me…he was hard.”

Merlin digests this, anger welling up inside him. He tries not to picture Cenred reaching around and undoing Arthur’s trousers, pulling them down…and fails.

“You’re hurting my hand,” Arthur says, and Merlin jerks to attention, easing the pressure of his fingers on Arthur’s.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, leaning his head against Arthur’s. They stay like that a while until Merlin hears Arthur’s breathing even out. But it’s a long time until Merlin can get back to sleep, and when he does, it’s he who has the nightmares.

“We’re getting married!” Elena squeals, throwing herself into Gwen’s arms in the booth. Merlin, Lance, Will, and Freya clap their hands with satisfaction. The group has met for lunch, and Elena is literally bouncing all over the place with happiness.

“Thank God! It’s about time,” Will says, his arm around Freya’s shoulders.

“And I didn’t tell him about the baby until after he proposed!” Elena smiles ear-to ear. “Oh, and then, of course, we had a terrible row, but that’s another story. She looks up and smiles at the waiter as he serves their drinks.

Gwen frowns. “Isn’t Gwaine happy about the baby?”

“Oh, yes,” Elena takes a sip of her water. “But not so much me keeping it from him, especially after we got back together. I was really only waiting for the right moment.” She sighs. “But everything’s fine now, and I feel so much better that he proposed without knowing.” She laughs and bounces in her seat. “I’m so happy! I want everyone to be as happy as I am!” She looks around. “Merlin, where’s Arthur?”

“He couldn’t get away from work,” Merlin tells her, “but don’t worry, we’re deliriously happy.” He winks.

“Wonderful! Well, friends, what about New Years? What’s the plan? I may not be allowed to drink this year, but I can dance!”

“Arthur and I are going to an office do,” Merlin tells them. “At some club.” He gives the name.

“Oh!” Gwen’s eyes get big. “I’ve always wanted to see that place.”

“Do you want me to ask Arthur if he can get you guys in?” Merlin asks, already tapping away on his mobile. Moments later he has his answer. “He says he’ll have all your names put on a list at the door.”

Gwen claps her hands together and looks at Lance. “You can wear your leather pants! We’ll dance all night! Tell Arthur he’s the best, Merlin!”

“Oh, believe me, I do. Every day.”

“You are so whipped,” Will tells him, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling, and nudges Merlin playfully with his knee.

“Leather pants?” Elena asks. “Really?”

Gwen had certainly been right about the club—it is something to see, with three floors, several lounge areas and bars, and the entire bottom floor booked to Pendragon Perfumes for their New Year’s party.

Arthur looks extremely sexy in his faded jeans and a clingy black T-shirt that Merlin longs to peel off his body (with his tongue, if it were possible). Arthur plays the host for a good deal of the first hour, although he repeatedly returns to Merlin to wrap his arm around his waist and kiss him behind the ear. Merlin sticks with his friends, although Sophia and Morgana join them. Morgana has dumped Elwin, Merlin’s happy to see, and she’s very surprisingly shown up with Mordred.

“Isn’t he your step-brother?” Merlin asks her, leaning in so that he can be heard over the loud beat of the music. Mordred and Sophia have taken to the dance floor.

Morgana’s magenta dress is no bigger than a scarf, and she carefully adjusts the bust. “Good God, Merlin, I don’t think of him in those terms. We’ve never lived together, and you know we aren’t blood related. I hardly feel there’s a familial connection between us. In fact, we’ve been fuck buddies for years.”

Merlin winces. “TMI, Morgana!”

Morgana shrugs. “Would you like to dance?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, but drags Merlin out onto the crowded floor. “You look scrumptious in that tight shirt, Merlin,” she shouts at him, pressing her back into his front as “Party Animal” blasts throughout the room. Merlin spots Gwen rather uncharacteristically grinding into Lance and blushes to his roots. He really needs another drink so he can loosen up.

As if on cue, Arthur presses one into his hand. “Back off, Morgana,” he tells her. “This one’s mine.”

Morgana pretends to pout, but immediately moves a foot away to dance with a tall, handsome man dressed only in tight, white pants.

Merlin thankfully sips his drink, unsure of exactly what it is, but finding it delicious. “Feel So Free” begins to play with a burst of confetti. The colorful stuff already litters the room, along with everyone’s hair and shoulders.

“Missed you,” Merlin tells Arthur, exaggerating the movement of his mouth so Arthur can read his lips over the loud music, their bodies automatically moving to the beat.

“I’ve made my rounds, now I’m all yours,” Arthur practically shouts, and then smiles devilishly. Merlin finishes off his drink, and Arthur takes it from him, setting it on the tray of a passing server. They begin to dance in earnest, bodies mingling in time with the music, a tantalizing seduction that sets Merlin aflame.

“If I weren’t above such things, I’d take you in the loo and blow you,” Merlin whispers in Arthur’s ear, noting with pleasure the chill bumps that immediately rise on Arthur’s skin at his words. Arthur’s hands on Merlin’s hips pull him closer, and Arthur nips at Merlin’s bottom lip.

“Let’s keep things PG, now, boys!” Leon’s voice interrupts them, annoyingly chirpy.

“Sod off,” Arthur says half into Merlin’s mouth. “I saw you humping Percy’s leg over in the corner.”

Leon laughs, almost doubling over before clamping a large hand on Arthur’s bum and squeezing as though testing fruit.

“You’re drunk,” Arthur tells him over his shoulder.

“Question is, why aren’t _you_ , Arty boy?” Leon asks as Percy leads him away with an apologetic grin. Merlin’s noticed that Percy’s never far away from Arthur, but he does it so inconspicuously, his presence is barely noticeable. Arthur once told Merlin that Percy’s the only bodyguard he’d ever tolerate having.

“Leon’s a stupid drunk,” Arthur tells Merlin, leaning in to kiss him again. Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, enthusiastically kissing him back. He’s hot all over, and he can feel Arthur’s erection pressing into his hip.

“When will I ever be able to get enough of you?” Merlin groans.

“Never, I hope,” Arthur tells him. “You know what I was thinking about today during a meeting? That time you let me fuck you under the arm. Shit, that was hot. I got a boner right there sitting next to old Alfred Harrington.”

Merlin laughs and nips at Arthur’s nose.

Will and Freya appear from out of the depths of the crowd, Will holding onto Freya’s hand. “Find us when the countdown begins,” Will says. “We’re all going to stand together, over there, near that.” He points to where one of the club’s models sits in a gilded bathtub, throwing rose petals over her barely-covered body. Merlin nods, and watches as his friends continue through the throng toward the bar, Freya giggling and holding onto Will’s belt so as not to get separated.

“Cute couple,” Arthur says, and Merlin turns his head and catches Arthur's lips in a kiss.

“Thirty minutes to countdown,” Arthur whispers into Merlin’s ear. “Want to find the loo?”

Flames lick at Merlin’s groin. “Definitely.” He takes Arthur’s hand and tugs him in the general vicinity of where he thinks the toilets are. He hopes they’re as clean as the rest of the club.

“Tell me that’s not what I think that is,” Merlin says when they find the bathroom and look around at the stalls.

“I believe the term would be ‘glory hole,’ Merlin,” Arthur says a bit smugly. This restroom, chosen for its secluded location, is deserted. It’s also fairly posh, which is why Merlin’s surprised to see such a thing. “Patrons like it,” Arthur tells him, shrugging. “Plus this toilet is close to the back rooms.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Ever tried one?” Arthur’s eyes blaze under blond lashes, and suddenly Merlin wants very much to try one.

“No, but I’d love to suck you through one of those things,” Merlin declares, licking his lips suggestively. After exchanging heated looks, they rush into the rather roomy stalls, shutting the doors, and Merlin falls to his knees, heart beating in his ears, eyes pinned on the hole in front of him. He can hear Arthur messing with his zipper on the other side, and just as the pink tip of Arthur’s cock peeks through the hole, Merlin suddenly realizes he isn’t alone.

He jerks to look behind him, and there stands Cenred, an unsavory smirk on his face.

And then the lights go out.


	36. Cenred, the bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, but I wanted to give you something before I have to head out this morning since I left you hanging. <3  
> Lovely comments-- You needn't have worried. I couldn't bring myself to put Arthur through anything terrible!

Quite literally. Merlin can’t see a fucking thing. He’s fallen back on his arse, and he knows Cenred’s looming over him in the darkness somewhere.

“Merlin?” Arthur says from the other side of the wall, his voice holding an edge of panic.

“Arthur, Cenred’s in here.” Merlin feels around until he gets hold of a foot.

“ _What?_ ”

“Arthur, run out of here and get someone!” Merlin yells, keeping a grip on Cenred’s beefy leg.

“What the _fuck_? Let go of me, you weasely bastard!” Cenred growls, trying to kick Merlin off. Merlin’s back collides against the commode with a jolt of pain. He lets out a cry, and hears Arthur yell something close by.

“No, Arthur…” he says through a grimace, and suddenly the lights come back on again, and Merlin blinks up, realizing that someone’s got Cenred by the arms, and it isn’t Arthur. It’s Percy.

“You can let go of him now, Merlin,” Percy says as he handcuffs him. Leon’s in the background using his mobile to call the police.

Merlin manages to maneuver around Cenred and out into the open lobby, where Arthur grabs hold of him, pulling him tightly to his chest, taking a moment to breathe Merlin in. Merlin clutches at him.

“I’m okay,” he whispers. “Everything’s okay.” He feels Arthur calm, nose against Merlin’s neck. Arthur takes a deep breath and moves slightly away.

“How in the hell did he get in here?” Arthur demands in a crisp, controlled voice. Two security guards have joined them by now and take over for Percy.

“He used his company i.d., which no one bothered to take away from him when he was fired,” Percy answers.

Leon gets off the phone and puts an arm around the big man. “Percy saw him follow you two into the hallway. He’s got eyes like a hawk, my Percy.”

Merlin shudders, reliving the moment he looked up and realized Cenred had walked into his stall. Cenred had lifted his arm, and Merlin had no doubt he’d been planning to knock him out. Merlin pulls Arthur closer to him, not caring that they’re standing cheek to cheek and probably look like a couple of girls. He can feel Arthur trembling, no matter how commanding he sounds.

Through this exchange, the shouted countdown can be heard in the next room, followed by screams of “Happy New Year!” and strains of “Auld Lang Syne.” Suddenly Arthur turns Merlin’s face to his and kisses him softly. “Wasn’t going to let the bastard rob us of our first New Year’s kiss,” he says, pressing their foreheads together.

Merlin’s mouth settles into a smile. He notes that Leon and Percy are also celebrating the moment, as the guards lead Cenred out the back way to where a police car will be waiting.

“This has been enough excitement for one night; let’s go home,” Arthur announces, wrapping an arm around Merlin and heading for the door. “Do the others know what happened?”

“No,” Leon replies. “They’ll still be out there dancing.”

“Leave them to it, then. We’re out of here. Percy, will you take care of things from my end?” Percy nods and heads out the back way. They slip out of the bathroom and into the crowd, Merlin taking things slower than usual, as his back is rather sore.

“You’re hurt!” Arthur says, concern washing over his face.

“Just bruised. Got kicked into the toilet. I can’t wait to get under the shower; I feel disgusting after rolling about on the loo floor.”

Arthur gets them to his place as quickly as possible, helping Merlin to undress and wash as soon as they’re through the door.

“I could kill him for hurting you,” he says between clenched teeth as he washes Merlin’s reddened back.

“I’m okay,” Merlin assures him, turning around and wrapping his arms around Arthur. “It’s what could have happened that scares me. He was going to knock me out. What if Percy hadn’t seen?”

“Shh,” Arthur runs his hands through Merlin’s hair, and it’s soothing and feels wonderful. Merlin nuzzles Arthur’s cheek before turning the water off.

“Let’s get into bed,” he suggests. “I don’t need a glory hole to do what I want to do.”

Fifteen minutes later he’s spread out between Arthur’s splayed legs, sucking appreciatively on his lengthening cock as Arthur watches, head propped on pillows.

“You’re so beautiful,” Arthur tells him, and Merlin smiles around his mouthful, pulling his head up and licking the fat tip before patting it against his lips. Arthur hisses, his eyes rolling back for a moment before settling again on the scene before him. “I could watch you sucking me forever.”

“I think my mouth would get tired eventually,” Merlin grins before taking him in to the root and swallowing, making Arthur groan and hitch his hips. When Arthur cums, Merlin pats his leg, prodding him to turn over and get on his knees. He places several pillows underneath Arthur’s hips before licking a stripe all the way from his sack to his hole, settling his mouth there, sucking, licking, and dribbling spit while listening to Arthur pant and sob into his pillow.

“Holy fuck, Merlin…”

Merlin licks a finger and wiggles it into Arthur, opening him up a bit before replacing it with his flicking tongue, bringing a yelp from Arthur’s lips followed by a string of sobbed curses.

“What a vocabulary!” he chuckles, and Arthur curses him colorfully, all the while jutting his perfect arse out for more. Merlin loves having Arthur this way, coming apart under his hands and tongue, his pert arse up in the air like a sacrifice to Merlin.

Merlin sends a line of spittle down Arthur’s hole before lapping at the puckered edges. “Gonna fuck you now, Arthur,” he tells him. “Right into the mattress.” He climbs off the bed and gets the lube out of the drawer, slicking up his steel-hard cock while Arthur watches with dazed eyes. “See this big thing?” Merlin holds himself in front of Arthur’s face. “It’s going inside you.” Arthur moans, closing his eyes and wiggling his arse like bait on a hook, and Merlin almost falls trying to get back onto the bed and behind him.

Arthur lets out a laugh at Merlin’s loss of control. “Shut up,” Merlin grumbles before pushing inside the sweet grip of Arthur’s body, pushing him down, down, until his hips are flat on the pillows and Merlin is lying on top of him, sucked inside to the root. He bites playfully at Arthur’s shoulders, enjoying the feeling of being sheathed in heat. Arthur’s breathing quickens beneath Merlin’s body, his plump cheeks pressing upward into Merlin’s abdomen. Then it’s all gyrating hips and purposeful thrusts, the air full of grunts and sighs of pleasure until, with a final frenzy of fucking, Merlin spends himself inside Arthur’s arse and collapses beside him. When Arthur turns over, he’s half-hard again, and Merlin uses a still-greasy hand to slowly bring him off, watching Arthur’s face as he cums, body arching off the mattress.

“Beautiful,” Merlin whispers, kissing Arthur’s shoulder. “So beautiful.” And the sex-addled smile Arthur gives him exceeds even that.


	37. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went through some previous chapters correcting mistakes. I noticed that Leon had moved out, then I hinted that he lived with Arthur again. Sorry. He lives with Percy now.

Gwaine and Elena’s wedding is set for Valentine’s Day, the same day that _Merlin_ comes out in select stores. When Merlin presents Gwaine with a bottle of the cologne at his bachelor’s party, Gwaine exclaims, “Oi, mate! Does this mean now I’m going to smell like you?”

“The cologne doesn’t do him justice,” Arthur tells Gwaine emphatically. “Nothing man-made can come close to the scent of Merlin in the flesh.”

“I’ll just take your word on that,” Gwaine tells Arthur with a wink, but locks his arm around Merlin’s neck, giving him a one-armed hug before suggesting they all do shots until they can’t see straight.

~~

“I am very annoyed that everyone is hung over from my bachelorette party except for me,” Elena says when everyone meets for the wedding rehearsal on February 13th and Gwen, Morgana, and Freya show up wearing dark glasses.

“The perils of pregnancy,” Morgana replies. “Should’ve thought of that before you spread your legs without any latex.”

“Good God, Morgana, could you gain a little tact, please?” Arthur complains, taking a seat on a park bench after scanning it for pigeon droppings. “Merlin, why are they getting married out here again?” he whispered to Merlin as he takes a seat beside him. “She does know it’s freezing, right?”

Merlin shrugs. “Elena’s idea. Nature and all that. She’s got us all wearing fancy outerwear.” They watch Elena flutter around in the snow, directing people.

“Come here, Merlin,” Gwaine calls. “As best man, you’ll stand here beside me.” Merlin flashes Arthur a grin and gets up.

“It’s only a term, Merlin,” Arthur reminds him, rolling his eyes and giving him a shove. “You are not actually _the_ best man.”

“Gwen first, then Freya, then lastly Morgana,” Elena orders the ladies.

“Kind of you to let Morgana be in your wedding, Elena,” Arthur calls out, looking supremely happy at not being a member of the wedding party. “I’m sure it’s the closest she’ll ever get.”

Morgana gives him the two fingered salute.

“Lance and Will are ushers,” Elena turns to them, “so after you seat everyone, you will stand up there by Merlin and Gwaine as groomsmen. And no fidgeting. You stand with your hands folded in front of you, like so.” She arranges Lance’s hands the way she wants them. Lance dociley succumbs, but when it’s Will’s turn, he slaps Elena’s hands away and scowls.

“I know how to fold my own hands, thanks very much, _Mum_!”

“Hey!” Gwaine leans over and yells at him. “Behave, or I’ll rearrange your face!” Then he smiles brightly.

Will grumbles, but stands still, hands folded nicely before him.

They roughly run through the ceremony, discuss a few last minute things, and then everyone goes their separate ways, Lance and Gwen inviting Merlin and Arthur to have lunch with them.

“This couldn’t happen soon enough,” Gwen says when they’re seated and have ordered. “Another couple of weeks, and there’s no way Elena would fit into her wedding gown. She’s eating like a cow!”

Merlin grins. “Wow, Gwen, that’s really harsh.”

Gwen smiles crookedly. “Sorry, but she really is. She’s eating double portions of everything. And she’d be impossible to be around if she had to let out her gown, or even worse—get a new one.”

“True,” Merlin relents.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Lance asks Merlin.

“Me? No. I just stand there. You have to walk up and down the aisle and keep track of which side to seat everyone.”

“You have to keep track of the rings,” Lance reminds him.

Merlin shrugs. “That’s no big deal. Gwaine says he’s not going to give them to me until the last minute anyway.”

“I guess it will be you two next,” Arthur says, taking a sip of his water.

Gwen looks at Lance and colors.

“Sorry…” Arthur hesitates, “I thought that was a ring on Gwen’s finger?”

“Oh, it is!” Gwen hurries to say, “it’s just…”

“It’s just that Gwen won’t agree on a date,” Lance cuts in. “She’s going for the longest engagement in the history of mankind.”

“I don’t want to rush it,” Gwen replies, and Lance makes a face.

“Well, you can’t rush these things,” Arthur comes to her defense, gentleman that he is, Merlin thinks. He squeezes Arthur’s thigh under the table.

The waiter arrives with their salads and everyone’s quiet for a while as they dig into their food.

Arthur’s mobile beeps and he fishes it out of his pocket, frowning as he peers at the screen.

“What is it?” Merlin asks, concerned at the way Arthur’s face has gone pale.

“Father wants us to meet him at Royal Marsden Hospital.” He looks up at Merlin, eyes wide. “That’s a cancer hospital, isn’t it?” He looks to Lance and Gwen, who glance at each other.

Merlin touches Arthur’s arm. “Does he want us there now?” At Arthur’s nod, Merlin holds out his hand.

“Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

Merlin is more than a bit nervous driving the Porsche, but Arthur is so anxiety-ridden sitting beside him, there’s no question that Merlin did the right thing.

Arthur’s hands grip his thighs, white-knuckled. “Why would he not tell me if something was wrong?” he asks.

“I’m sure he didn’t want to worry you,” Merlin answers, concentrating on the road. Traffic is heavy for some reason.

“But I’m his son! I should be helping him with these things!” Arthur looks at Merlin. “He hasn’t been sick…he looked good at the board meeting last week. What do you think happened?”

Merlin suddenly realizes that Arthur thinks that his father is the one who is sick. “Arthur, I think this is about Nevin, not Uther.”

Arthur, who has begun scrolling through his mobile, turns surprised eyes Merlin’s way. “Nevin? Why do you say that?”

“I’m not at all sure, of course,” Merlin hurries to say, easing into a faster lane of traffic, “but it’s just a feeling I’ve gotten. He hasn’t looked well, and at Christmas your father seemed worried about him. And wouldn’t Nevin be phoning you if it were Uther who is sick?”

Arthur sits back, seemingly deep in thought for the rest of the ride to the hospital.

When they arrive, Merlin offers to drop Arthur at the entrance while Merlin finds a parking space, but Arthur won’t hear of it. He wants Merlin with him. Merlin doesn’t argue, and finds a space as close to the building as he can. They hurry to the front desk and find that Nevin indeed has a room on the third floor. Arthur swallows hard, glancing Merlin’s way as they board the crowded lift. He takes Merlin’s hand in his, but doesn’t say anything on the ride up. Merlin squeezes Arthur’s hand reassuringly, his stomach in knots, afraid of what they’ll find out. He thinks of Nevin with his quick steps and bright eyes and spirit and hates to imagine him sick. He thinks of Uther and how much he loves Nevin, and sickens at the thought of how this will affect the stoic man. The Pendragons are an unusual family, but they are a family all the same, full of love and commitment to one another. This is going to hit them hard.

Merlin and Arthur step off the lift, but Arthur surprisingly doesn’t loosen his hold on Merlin’s hand, even though the halls are crowded. Merlin stays close to Arthur, giving him all the support he can. They find room 327, and Merlin steels himself for what they’ll find. Arthur pushes open the door.

“Arthur! Merlin! There you are,” Uther rushes toward them wearing a tux, of all things. “And not a moment too soon. We were just heading down to the chapel.”

Arthur stands transfixed, mouth open. “Father, what’s going on?”

“Why, a wedding, of course! Come on…the chapel’s this way, and Nevin’s waiting for us there.”

Arthur grabs Uther by the arm, yanking him back. “Father, this is a cancer hospital, tell me what’s happening, _now_!”

Uther’s face falls a little before he can rearrange it. “Yes, well, that. Nevin has kidney cancer, son.”

Arthur’s whole countenance falls, and Merlin stands behind him, placing his hands on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Don’t do that!” Uther says sharply. “There’ll be none of that, do you hear me? Nevin will be fine. They are going to take out part of his kidney later today using the keyhole method, but first we are to be married, and I want a smile on both of your faces, do you understand?” His eyes go from Arthur to Merlin and back again. Both younger men nod. “All right, then. Follow me.” They start off down the hall at a brisk pace, finding the chapel in record time just as Morgana arrives.

Nevin stands talking and laughing with the preacher and Mordred, and when he sees Arthur and Merlin, he greets them warmly, giving them each a hug and a kiss.

“Isn’t this wonderful? Budge finally popped the question. It only took kidney cancer to get him to do it.” He winks at Uther, who looks like he wants to vomit. “Oh, come here, you, I’m only joking.” Nevin pulls Uther in and kisses him gently on the lips.

“Are we ready?” The preacher asks.

The wedding is short, but sweet, and Merlin is appalled when he finds himself crying during the ceremony. Arthur gives him a nudge and a smile, handing him his handkerchief. He can’t help it; Uther and Nevin are just so sweet together, and Merlin had been so wrong initially about Uther having all the power in the relationship. It is so obvious that he would do absolutely anything for Nevin.

As soon as it’s over, Nevin has to change and prep for surgery.

“Some honeymoon this is,” he complains, as he’s tucked into bed by a nurse.

“We’ll go somewhere wonderful when you’re better,” Uther tells him, running his fingers through Nevin’s unruly hair. “Anywhere you want to go.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Nevin says, grabbing his hand. “You know, I _will_ get better, Budge. The doctor says they can get it all. Stop worrying. And then you’re going to have to make due on your promise and take me to Greece.”

“I know; I want to,” Uther leans down and kisses him tenderly, and Merlin has to turn away because he’s crying _again_ , dammit. He steps out into the corridor to try to pull himself together.

Arthur follows. “You know, he’s right. Mordred, Morgana, and I spoke with the doctor. They fully expect to get all the cancer, and Nevin should make a full recovery.”

Merlin nods. “I know. It’s just—I don’t know.” He sniffs, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Arthur offers his handkerchief again, and Merlin gives him a watery smile.

“Thanks.”

 

_Be My Valentine_ the card reads.

It had been a very busy day, what with driving to the hospital early in the morning to visit Nevin, whose surgery had gone very well, then high-tailing it to get ready for the two o’clock wedding in the park, which had gone off without a hitch despite the falling snow and the shivering guests.

Then everyone drove to see the two off on their little three day honeymoon trip to Paris which all their friends had chipped in and paid for and given to them as a surprise.

Merlin and Arthur immediately drove back to Arthur’s flat with a bottle of champagne and take-out from a fancy restaurant that Arthur had pre-ordered, and now sat naked, eating, drinking, and exchanging Valentine cards in bed.

Merlin looks up from the card Arthur’s given him, raising a brow. “Beautiful in its originality,” he grins.

“Shut up,” Arthur nudges him with his bare foot. “I searched and searched, but couldn’t find anything more eloquent to say what I wanted to say.”

Merlin purses his lips. “Well, open your card from me.”

Arthur does so to find the exact same card. “I don’t believe it,” he laughs.

“Great minds think alike, I guess,” Merlin says, putting down his champagne flute and scooting closer. “So, tell me, are you going to start wearing my cologne?”

Arthur shakes his head, burying his face in Merlin’s neck. “It doesn’t even come close to smelling like you.” He takes a long whiff of Merlin. “God, you smell so good.” He lifts first one arm and then the other. “Keep them just like that,” he tells Merlin, trailing his fingers down Merlin’s arms before ducking his head to kiss Merlin’s neck, collarbone, and then burying his face in his left armpit. Merlin grabs hold of the top of the headboard, shivering as Arthur’s lips run over the sensitive skin under his arm. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, listening to Arthur tell him how much he loves him.

“That first day I saw you in the gym,” Arthur says, flicking his tongue into the nest of curls, drugging Merlin with lust, “I saw your cheekbones, and I thought, ‘Shit!’ and then I caught I whiff of you.” He swallows thickly. “I can’t explain what it was like. I don’t know what I would have done if you wouldn’t go out with me.”

Merlin opens his eyes and sees Arthur lounging there, nude body sprawled over Merlin’s, muscles fine-toned and gorgeous, hand splayed against Merlin’s stomach, and chiseled jaw reaching toward Merlin’s under arm—everything zeroing in on that one area of Merlin’s body. He can see Arthur tensing as he grows excited, like something wild.

Arthur climbs over Merlin’s body, straddling him, rubbing on him erotically until Merlin moans low in his throat and starts to reach for him. With a wicked smile, Arthur reaches for the red tie he discarded and wraps it around Merlin’s wrists, securing them to the bedstead and tying them tightly so that Merlin is pinioned there. Merlin breathes in, his cock lengthening as Arthur bends to lick his right armpit, swirling the hairs with his tongue until Merlin is humping up at him and begging.

“What?” Arthur asks innocently. “Do you want something from your Valentine, Merlin? You’ll have to speak up.”

“Yes, you prat! I want something from my infuriating Valentine! I want in his arse! Now be still and let me in there!”

Arthur laughs and gets the lube out of the drawer. “Look what I got especially for the occasion.” He holds it up. “Strawberry flavored!” He grins.

“Brilliant!” Merlin crows. “Now be a good boy and pour that all over my cock and sit on it.”

“Oh, but first,” Arthur leans over the bed and plucks a chocolate-covered strawberry from the tray of food. He holds it to Merlin’s mouth so he can take a bite. Merlin’s does, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s, and begins chewing. Arthur leans over for a kiss, and they share the food between them, their tongues mingling in a dirty kiss that doubles Merlin’s heart rate and sets him humping again.

“Patience,” Arthur winks at him.

“You’re pure evil,” Merlin tells him, narrowing his eyes.

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet,” Arthur promises, turning around and presenting his perfect arse to Merlin’s face. Merlin gasps, licking his lips, and Arthur leans back and dribbles some strawberry lube down his crack. “Care to help me distribute this stuff?”

Merlin doesn’t have to be asked twice. He immediately leans in and, using his tongue, begins swirling the lube over Arthur’s crack, concentrating on the hole. Arthur groans, his body shaking as he diligently tries to hold his bum in front of Merlin’s eager mouth. When he’s wet and dripping, Arthur crawls forward and turns around, taking Merlin’s throbbing cock in his hand and easing himself down upon it until it’s all the way inside him.

Merlin plants the soles of his feet on the bed and begins thrusting upward, enjoying the grunts that come from Arthur’s mouth on every upsweep. He wishes he could get hold of Arthur’s cock, which bounces alluringly between them, making the most delicious smacking noise against Arthur’s flat stomach, but with Merlin’s hands tied above his head, he can only stare at it. Arthur reaches up and fingers Merlin’s nipples, making Merlin squirm, then leans in to kiss him filthily while Merlin struggles to keep his cock from slipping out of the tight warmth of Arthur’s arse. It isn’t long before Merlin’s cumming, cursing under his breath, and then Arthur pulls off and he kneels, putting his cock between Merlin’s lips.

Merlin eagerly opens them wide so Arthur can fuck his mouth, letting him hit the back of his throat, trying to stifle his gag reflex. Arthur grabs hold of Merlin’s hair and thrusts three, four, five times and then he’s cumming, pulling out to spurt onto Merlin’s lips.

“Yeah, that’s good. Look at that,” Arthur breathes. “So beautiful.” He leans down to kiss it all off and then unties Merlin’s hands, kissing both of his wrists in turn.

Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him close. “I love you,” he tells him. “Be my Valentine and move in with me tomorrow.”

The look Arthur gives him is pure love. “My place is bigger. And nicer.”

“True,” Merlin concedes. “But you haven’t asked me to move in with you.”

“That’s because I was going to ask you to marry me and get a place together.” Arthur mouths at Merlin’s jaw.

Merlin can’t help it. He starts to cry.

“Merlin?” Arthur leans back to look at him, frowning. “Are you sure _you_ aren’t pregnant? You’ve been doing an awful lot of crying lately.”

Merlin laughs through his tears. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles. “You’re so perfect.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pixie.” Arthur kisses the tears away. “And that’s not an answer.”

“The answer is yes, Arthur. Yes, yes, yes.”


	38. Epilogue

 

Merlin swears, only Elena and Gwaine would name their kid Gandalf. He can only hope the boy will grow up to be so cute it won’t matter.

He holds the one-year-old as Elena puts the finishing touches on her make-up, dangling a toy unicorn in front of him and trying not to let the toddler wiggle off his lap and wander away.

“Elena, I’m going to be late to meet Arthur!” Merlin whines, because he doesn’t want to be there, and Gandalf has something green and sticky on his hands.

“Good lord, Merlin, two more minutes! If you put Gandy down, he’ll be into everything!” She pulls her mascara wand out and begins on her eyelashes. “I’ve got to get ready and get him to the sitter so I can meet Gwaine downtown. Arthur isn’t going to run off if you’re a few minutes late, is he?”

“He might!” Merlin huffs.

“Yeah, right,” Elena eyes him with disbelief over her shoulder. “He adores you. You two are like the cutest gay married couple _ever_. Seriously, if there was an award for that, you two would get it.”

Merlin can’t help smirking, because they totally would.

“We’re having drinks with his father and step-father, and Uther doesn’t like tardiness,” Merlin tells her. He can’t help it; he’s still intimidated by Uther.

“Okay, okay, I’m finished.” Elena stands up and smooths out her dress. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Merlin gets to his feet and holds out Gandalf to her. “Now take your kid.”

Elena rolls her eyes and takes him. “Uncle Merlin is just mean, isn’t he, Gandy? Uncle Arthur is much nicer.”

“See you,” Merlin pecks Elena on the cheek and gives Gandalf’s dark hair a tussle, and then he’s out of their small house and headed across town in the Audi Arthur bought him for a wedding present. They’ve been married for six blissful months, and sometimes Merlin still can’t believe it. The entire landscape of his life is changing, with all his friends hooking up and having babies. Will called him just the night before to tell him that he and Freya are expecting a child, although he hadn’t mentioned anything about marriage. They’d been living together for quite a while. Gwen and Lance had finally eloped and announced their marriage over cocktails one evening not long after Merlin and Arthur got back from their honeymoon in Egypt.

Merlin and Arthur went all out and had a huge, elaborate wedding, allowing Nevin to plan most of it, since it made him so happy. They held it outside in late summer on the Pendragon estate with fairy lights and white pavilions and an entire orchestra. Merlin definitely had his Prince Charming that night, although he hoped he’d looked nothing like Cinderella. The wedding photos came out gorgeous, and Arthur keeps one on his desk of the two of them in their formalwear standing cheek to cheek.

“Arthur?” Merlin calls as soon as he’s in the townhouse they share.

“In here,” Arthur shouts from the master bathroom.

Merlin sighs as he walks into the master bedroom. “I thought Elena would never let me leave. She made me hold the baby forever.”

Arthur laughs. “Was it that bad?”

Merlin makes a face. “He was sticky.”

Arthur finishes brushing his teeth and comes out. “Father says Nevin’s test came out cancer free today, so it’s a celebratory dinner.”

“That’s fantastic!” Merlin hugs him. Nevin is checked periodically for cancer cells, and they always celebrate afterward.

Arthur gives Merlin a long kiss on the mouth, pulling him in close. “Do you think you’d like to have children of our own one day?” he asks, surprising Merlin.

“What?” Merlin pulls back a little. “Where did this come from?”

Arthur shrugs. “I don’t know. Will’s announcement last night, I guess. And we’ve been babysitting Gandalf a lot lately.”

Merlin thinks about it. What would it be like? “Well, maybe someday. I don’t think right away, though. I don’t want to share you yet.” He kisses Arthur on the throat.

Arthur laughs. “Yeah, I feel that way a little bit, too. I just wanted to know how you felt about it.” He wraps an arm around Merlin’s waist. “We’d better go, or Father will gripe.” They head for the garage. Merlin pauses in the doorway to look back inside before turning out the lights, a little giddy with happiness, still, at the life they’ve made together.

“Come on, Pixie, and I’ll let you drive my Porsche,” Arthur calls to him from the garage.

“I don’t want to drive it, prat,” Merlin says, closing the door.

“Of course you do, _Mer_ lin. Everyone wants to drive my Porsche.”

_fin_


End file.
